


Dangerous Territory

by Interrobang



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jesse McCree, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Gratuitous liberties taken with world mythology, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Piercings, Top Hanzo Shimada, Weird Demon Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Jesse McCree is a demon hunter. He answers the call for a new job, but it doesn't go quite as planned when he meets Hanzo Shimada, the town's resident minor sex demon.Something has been intruding on Hanzo's territory, and he's determined to find out what and eliminate it by whatever means necessary. McCree is mostly just along for the ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: it's not really heavy enough to require a tag in my opinion, but part of this could be considered dubious consent, if only because of the effects of demon saliva in this AU. :v

Jesse McCree had arrived on the edge of town two weeks ago, dropping off the back of the truck that had let him hitch in its bed. Tall, auburn-leaved trees lined the road, and beyond them stretched the rolling hills of a rural town on the edge of a jagged line of mountains. The sun was just about to pass over the edge of one high cliff when he slipped through the door of a promising-looking bar.

He was settled at a corner table in that same bar now-- one with a nice view of the door and a wall at his back. After signaling for a drink, he pulled out his phone. It was a fancy piece of glass and metal, case chipped but screen intact, and it just about held his life together. Photos, records, payment plans, evidence, travel logs were available on it.

McCree was a hunter, plain and simple. He worked mostly freelance, but was associated with Overwatch, a fairly well-known hunter’s guild.

Guilds these days were less formal affairs than in ages prior. They primarily composed of online communities moderated by heavy-hitting professionals. Collectively, they were governed by an international council, which processed and approved requests for hunter intervention. If McCree didn’t have his phone, he would be unable to find jobs, claim priority, or charge for his time.

McCree was here because of one strange job offer he’d seen posted a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t a particularly violent case-- very little bloodshed-- but the damages to the community seemed to be adding up, and someone local was willing to pay for professional help.

Apparently a nice, sleepy mountain town was being ravaged by a...very strange sex demon. Incubus, succubus, dream eater, shapeshifter-- no one seemed able to specify. The only thing the stories had in common was that the creature liked to single people out, feed, and deposit their depleted bodies where they were likely to be discovered by help later. The creature seemed content to feed on sexual energy, but it had left several people in the hospital, nervous systems overworked.

And its appetite was growing. 

The weird part (beyond the demon looking after its victims) was that the council would not give him more information about the hiring party. When he asked for a contact's name, they were evasive, claiming necessary anonymity. Special circumstances, they said. He would have to go in blind. It had made his job difficult, as few of the victims were willing to discuss the experience, and the creature itself was a slippery piece of work.

McCree sipped at his drink, looking up when his phone pinged. Another update on the job. He was being called out to specific coordinates-- the poster was claiming they’d just had a brush with the creature and needed assistance. Post said it was still out there somewhere-- run off into the night for some reason.

Jesse dropped his paid bill on the table and gathered his things. 

Time to shine.

\--

He was dressed for the fall weather in a flannel, thick jacket, and heavy denim jeans tucked into his lucky boots. Pack strapped to his back and gun at his hip, McCree walked through the woods near the most recent sighting. His breath fogged in front of him. A fat moon sat high on the horizon.

The bourbon was buzzing at his head, now, blood warm in his cheeks. It was just enough to take the bite of the wind off.

A branch snapped behind him. McCree froze, hand at his holster. When he whipped around, his finger was a hair from the trigger, body set wide to absorb a blow he was sure was coming.

Instead, he watched a deer panic and crash back through the woods behind him.

He dropped his shoulders. Damn thing couldn’t find a better place to look for a meal? As he went to holster his gun, the strap of his pack caught on his belt and he was temporarily tangled. He made a frustrated noise and tugged at his layers, trying to situate himself.

“Are you McCree?” a rushed call hushed out from behind a tree.

McCree looked up. A man was crouched some distance in front of him, back to a tree. He looked a little cut up. Leaves littered his clothes and his hair, which had at one point probably been neatly tied back, was falling around his face. His tight athletic thermal was shredded on one side, but he looked like he was in good health.

“You alright, fella?” He hastily shoved his gun back on his hip and rushed over to help the guy up.

The man looked irritated, but not ravaged like most reports seemed to indicate he should have been. “It _attacked_ me.” He sounded almost offended. “I have been paying attention to its habits, but I thought--” the man jerked his head around, eyes searching in the dark. McCree followed his intense gaze.

Nothing.

“Hey now, tell me what’s going on. What happened?” McCree held out his hand. Warm brown eyes looked up at him, searching. McCree almost whistled. Cheekbones that could cut glass, long eyelashes, a bold nose. The hand that gripped his own was strong, and McCree could feel muscles flex where he braced them on the man’s forearm to help him up. What a looker.

“It was here. I was training--”

“At night?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Marathons. I enjoy the exercise. I was _jogging--_ and it tackled me.” He tugged down his ragged shirt, revealing a firm chest. A set of deep scratches crawled over his clavicle, bordering a truly epic tattoo. This time McCree did whistle, low and long. What a doozy.

“Well, alright, damn...you see which way it went?”

The man shook his head vigorously, jaw clenched. "It was too quick for me this time."

McCree raised an eyebrow. "This time?"

"It's been taunting me for days-- ever since the last victim was found. I thought I'd have time for a short run, but I think it's been observing my schedule."

McCree looked around the dark woods. The wind was picking up now. Even with his warm athletic wear on, the man in front of him looked like he was shaking. Shock, most likely. It’d be better to take care of the poor guy and get some info out of him than run off on a blind hunt. McCree rubbed his gloved hands together and drew a smoke out of his pocket, lighting it before he turned back to the man.

“You live nearby?”

\--

Hanzo, as he’d introduced himself, lived a mile or so away in a small, tidy home at the edge of the woods. It was a small cabin, secluded and quiet. It had high ceilings, a small kitchen opening into a spacious living room, and two other doors McCree didn’t get a chance to look behind while Hanzo was locking three deadbolts and rushing to draw the blinds and curtains over all the windows.

Understandable, all things considered.

Hanzo stalked over to his kitchen, plunking a large teapot on the stove and setting some water to boil. McCree made himself at home. There was a plush couch placed in front of an empty fireplace, and he took off his long coat and draped it there for lack of a coatrack. Taking his cue from the neat pile of shoes by the door, McCree shucked his boots and relaxed in the living room.

As he checked his phone and made notes on the hunt file, he listened to Hanzo crashing around the cabin.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Hanzo called from the kitchen, “I have been petitioning for help for weeks, but I did not think they send an actual _hunter ._ I had assumed they would send some one lower in the ranks-- an apprentice or administrator. The council didn't seem overly invested in the outcome.” 

"What, you're the hiring party?" McCree grinned. Finally, some luck. "I'll admit, they haven't made it easy trying to get in contact with you."

McCree heard a hiss as something hit a hot pan. By the smell of it, it was something good. “They...didn't tell you who I was?" He muttered something in Japanese to himself. "They should have. Regardless, I hope your presence will bring an end to the attacks.”

McCree propped a foot up on the coffee table and tapped out a note. “So they’re common knowledge, then?” He glanced up at Hanzo. The man had shed his torn clothing and was wearing a hoodie open over his bare chest, leaving his wounds to air. The scratches were still red, but didn’t look as bad as they had in the woods an hour ago. He was probably just an easy bleeder, McCree thought.

Hanzo glanced over from the stovetop. “Somewhat. There have been fewer hikers since the weather cooled off, but there are still trails and campgrounds. They suffer. Local police haven’t gone as far as a curfew, but they are considering it. They say it is only a matter of time.” He scoffed. “Public protection, indeed.”

McCree smirked and toed his way over to the kitchen, leaning on a counter. “Not much of a  believer, huh?”

Hanzo glanced over, scratching at one of the red lines on his chest while he stirred a pot. He snorted derisively.

“What do they think a curfew will do? It would not stop a shapeshifter.”

McCree hummed noncommittally and looked at whatever Hanzo was stirring. Some kind of curry? It smelled spicy-- heavenly, considering the weather. He reached out to pinch a taste and had his hand smacked away.

“Besides, even if it was a shapeshifter, they like more densely populated areas. This town is _tiny._ That is the whole reason I settled here to begin with.”

“Oh? And what do you do here, anyway?”

Hanzo picked out a spoon from a drawer and took a bite out of the pot. He hummed and smacked out his answer around a mouthful: “I told you: I run. I also swim and cycle and am a personal trainer when the competitive seasons wind down.” He dipped the spoon back in the pot and offered it to McCree. “Here. Tell me if it needs something.”

McCree took the bite-- look at him, being spoonfed by a handsome stranger!-- and immediately broke into a coughing fit.

“Whoo! Don’t think you need any more peppers, that’s for sure.” He thumped at his chest and wiped his eyes. “Damn, darlin’, my own abuela would have trouble with that one. What kind of chilis you throw in there, anyhow?”

Hanzo smirked. “Thai. Excellent way to keep off colds this time of year if you are outdoors often.”

McCree found a tissue and blew his nose. “Yeah, I’ll say. Warmed me up right quick.” His chest and face were certainly warmer than they’d been a minute ago, that was for sure.

The kettle started whistling just as Hanzo pulled the curry off the stove. They grabbed plates and made their way back to Hanzo’s couch-- not much of a dining room, McCree noticed.

The heat lingered as McCree spooned out some curry for himself along with a heavily-sweetened mug of tea. The fall chill was starting to dissipate now, and he took the opportunity to look over his file notes so far. A couple weeks in the little mountain town had given him a few things to go on, but not much.

“So,” he started, sniffling after another bite of curry. “You said the thing came at you? You get a look at it?”

Hanzo became sullen. “...Not so much, no. I am kicking myself. I have...never experienced anything that strong. I have grown complacent in training alone.”

McCree slurped at his tea. “Ah, don’t worry too much, partner. These things tend to like pretty young things like yourself. Prolly woulda’ had something after you sooner or later anyhow, alone in the woods like this as ya are.”

Hanzo’s lips quirked up in amusement. McCree noticed the flush on his face and neck-- and that glorious tattooed shoulder. His lips were swollen from spice as he answered, “Pretty young thing? And how young do you take me for?”

“Yikes, I dunno, early twenties? Don’t judge me too much here, darlin’, ages ain’t my thing.”

Hanzo laughed and dropped his spoon in favor of his mug. “Ha! How flattering. I turned 32 months ago.”

McCree grinned and made a habitual move to shyly tip his hat, which was sitting on the counter back in the kitchen. “Well, I’ll be! Older than me, too. Guess ages really _aren’t_ my thing.”

“Indeed.” Hanzo sipped at his tea and made it through another couple bites before he picked up the conversation again. “Regardless, it did take me by surprise. As did you. My runs are usually fairly solitary, especially at my normal hours.” He touched wistfully at his chest, fingering along the faint red line where he’d been wounded. McCree’s eyes followed, glued to his fingertips. “Tch. And it ruined one of my favorite shirts.”

McCree tore his eyes away. _Business_. This was business. Give a guy a meal and a little eye candy and he turns into a dog, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes at himself.

But damn, that curry was pretty hot, and he was all warmed up now. The layers were getting to be a bit much. Surely Hanzo wouldn’t mind if he slipped off another layer? The man _was_ going bare-chested under his sweatshirt. McCree set down his plate, shrugging off his flannel outershirt. It left him in a worn-out black t-shirt that clung to his arms a bit much but was comfortable all the same.

He was still sweating.

“Say, you have a fan or anything back here? Food’s real good, honest, but it’s got me a mite hot. Reckon that mountain hike didn’t do much for me, either.”

Hanzo stood and gestured for McCree to follow, and they headed towards one of the other rooms in the cabin.

McCree lingered in the doorway as Hanzo dug through a closet. His long, black hair swung down in a loose ponytail as he rummaged. McCree couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

“Ah, here we go.” Hanzo walked over and grabbed McCree’s hands, placing a very small electric fan in them. “I’m afraid that’s the best I have.”

McCree played with it, squeezing the trigger to start the battery-operated little fan. Hanzo’s hands still hadn’t left his. They were cradling the fan together. “That’ll do, I suppose. Won’t be more than temporary.”

They stood for a second longer. The little fan fizzed and whined as its tiny blades carded the air, blowing a stray strand of McCree’s hair around as he looked more closely at Hanzo’s face. The man wasn’t much shorter than him, and lord, did he have nice eyes…

He stumbled back from where he found himself leaning into Hanzo’s presence.

 _Business_ , damn it.

He trailed back to the living room, nerves in a frenzy. Hanzo was seated again by the time he’d found a place for the fan and started to settle in to the remains of his dinner. He leaned into the air flow. It was damn warm in here.

“McCree--”

“We’re workin’ together, darlin’, you can call me Jesse.”

“Jesse, then. Jesse, though I truly appreciate your presence so far tonight…” Hanzo leaned forward. His hand grazed the couch near McCree’s thigh. “I’m afraid I have other matters I need to attend to.” McCree’s breath caught in his throat. “Perhaps you could help me?”

McCree tittered nervously. “Sure, sure...what did you have in mind?’

“Well,” Hanzo said thoughtfully, hand rasping on the stubble on his chin, “to start…”

Suddenly, McCree noticed how _close_ Hanzo had gotten. His eyes strayed down to Hanzo’s plush lips. He was worrying at them, one sharp tooth pressed in ever so gently.

Hanzo’s warm brown eyes peered into his as his tongue flicked out lightly, as if tasting the air. “...I’m hungry.”

“Oh!” McCree relaxed marginally. “Oh, well, we can, uh, we can finish--”

An amused smirk formed on Hanzo’s face. Were his eyes a little...sharper than they were a minute ago? The hand not boxing him against the couch came up to rest on his throat. Hanzo’s thumb sat lightly over his adam’s apple.

“No, Jesse. I’m _hungry_.”

Ah, _shit_.

Hanzo surged forward. His lips met McCree’s in an open-mouthed kiss, soft and wet. McCree’s head was spinning as he felt Hanzo’s tongue swipe at his, and he was helpless to the rush of euphoria that crashed over him when he got a taste. Suddenly, his head was buzzing; his limbs were melting. The only thing that mattered was the heat of Hanzo’s mouth on his.

  
Hanzo’s hand was still on his throat, resting lightly over his pulse point. McCree felt him squeeze lightly and panted harshly, leaning his head back against the couch, exposing more of his neck. He was stupid for it, but he _wanted_ it. He wanted to sink into Hanzo’s hands, wanted _more_. 

Hanzo’s mouth ghosted over his jawbone, biting gently at the shell of his ear.

“Will you help me?”

McCree groaned, bringing his arms up to wrap around Hanzo’s waist. Hanzo’s sweatshirt bunched under his grip, but Hanzo was steady as a rock. He wouldn’t be moved.

Hanzo quirked his head, a searching look in his eyes. “I need your permission, Jesse.”

“You have it, darlin’, just--”

He never got the last bit out, because Hanzo was back in McCree’s space in the best of ways. He worried at McCree’s lip, pulling on it gently, then sucking it in his own mouth. McCree tried to respond, rubbing his tongue along Hanzo’s, pulling him close. His mouth was still sensitive from the spicy food, and the tingling only got more intense as whatever was in Hanzo’s saliva intoxicated him.

He pulled back, panting, and Hanzo took the opportunity to move down to McCree’s neck, mouthing at a tendon. His hands were roaming up McCree’s sides, petting at his muscles and rubbing the tight skin of his stomach over the soft cotton of his shirt.

Hanzo’s fingers slipped under the edge of McCree’s t-shirt, and he pushed up into it, arching his back as he lay amongst the couch cushions. He was almost horizontal now, his hair mussed up, his face flushed. He was loose-limbed and pliant. His arms rested on either side of his head, hands curled lightly. One hip bone peeked out of his jeans where they’d slipped down a little. Hanzo leaned back, a greedy look on his face.

“I wondered how long it would take a hunter to get here,” he said, his hands running over McCree’s abdomen under his shirt. “I didn’t think it would be someone like _you_.”

 _And what the hell is_ that _supposed to mean?_ McCree thought hazily.

Hanzo’s eyes shone as he absently licked his lips, considering. McCree felt decidedly hunted the moment Hanzo leaned down. His mouth hovered over McCree’s. His hair hung like a neat dark curtain around them. The silence of the cabin was deafening as Hanzo started...drinking?

It felt like snowmelt was being drawn up from his innermost core. McCree didn’t shout, because the moment Hanzo began to pull it into his own lungs, ecstasy hit McCree right in the chest.

He started whining, pushing his hips up towards Hanzo, but all Hanzo did was suck whatever it was in, his eyes heavily lidded as his tongue licked into McCree’s mouth. He was still _taking_ , and McCree would have done anything to let it keep happening.

He grunted as Hanzo put his weight on his hips on him to keep him from wriggling around. His hands were still roaming, pulling up McCree’s shirt to grab at his chest. McCree yanked the front of Hanzo’s jacket in both hands and pulled him closer.

The pull of ice out of his body paused as Hanzo pried his hands off his sweatshirt, settling them instead on his thighs. McCree kept his eyes glued to Hanzo’s muscular torso. One dusky nipple peeked out as Hanzo readjusted his coat.

“I already lost a shirt today. I’d prefer to leave this intact, if you don’t mind.”  And then he slipped it off, neatly draping it over the arm of the couch before slotting himself back between McCree’s legs and returning to work.

Hanzo idly kissed McCree’s neck, lavishing sucking pressure on all the skin he could reach. McCree could have sworn that he could see something coming off his own skin in waves like steam. Hanzo chased it with his tongue, following a furl of it over McCree’s jawbone and up to his mouth again.

McCree’s shirt was rucked up practically to his armpits at this point, and Hanzo’s hands were getting pushy. He arched into the touch as Hanzo pinched roughly at a nipple and ran his fingers against the grain of his chest hair. Hanzo’s hot hands petted at him, squeezing at his muscles and rubbing against sensitive skin as he kissed the life out of him. McCree felt like his skin was one big nerve center, lit up like a christmas tree everywhere Hanzo touched.

McCree took a moment to try and collect his scattered thoughts while Hanzo moved down to mouth at one nipple, biting softly and pulling at it with his teeth. His head was hot-- in fact, his whole body was warm, pulsing with desire. His pants were too tight, the fabric too rough. Even the thin cotton of his shirt was choking him at his collar. He couldn’t get enough air and Hanzo wasn’t helping, shoving the fabric of his shirt at his face and-- wait, he was trying to take it off him.

McCree sat up half-way to help, groggily pulling his shirt over his head while Hanzo chased a tendril of...energy?...across his abs. One hand gripped the dip of his waist while the other’s fingers dug into the meat of his denim-covered thigh, scratching lightly with finely-clawed fingertips. McCree couldn’t hold back a low groan when Hanzo peeked up from where he was nestled between McCree’s legs. All the warm tones had been pulled out of Hanzo’s eyes, leaving them a molten gold, gleaming in the lamplight. His pupils were fine slits, dilated now as his tongue darted out to catch a stray slip of mist off McCree’s stomach.

McCree dug his hands into the couch cushions and threw his eyes skyward, fighting the urge to grind up against Hanzo’s torso.

“Always thought I’d die in the middle of a hunt. Never imagined it quite like this, though.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and nipped at his hipbone. “Please. You are hardly dying.”

McCree started to grumble something accusatory but he was cut off when Hanzo started sucking noisily at the vee of his groin, following the trail of hair down to where his jeans were slipping low off his hips, hindered only by the grip of his belt.

Hanzo seemed to notice how mouthy he was getting, because he crawled over McCree’s body to kiss him again, hungry and insistent. As soon as Hanzo licked back into his mouth he could feel his bones go rubbery and his will to move fizzled out with a hiss. He closed his eyes and gave over to sensation. McCree could feel Hanzo’s thumb putting pressure on his dick through the layers, and a small noise snuck out of his chest when Hanzo gripped the length of him over his pants and started to rub along his cock where it was trapped against the inseam.

The ceiling spun as Hanzo pulled away, worrying at the point of one sharp tooth with the tip of his tongue.

“You can participate, you know,” he said slyly. “There is no one here to insist this has to be a one-way experience.”

As if to demonstrate, he carefully picked up one of McCree’s hands from where it was laying loosely by his chin. Hanzo placed it on top of his own head, nuzzling the crown of his skull into McCree’s palm. McCree could feel something-- bumps?-- under the skin. The hard protrusions grew with every passing second as Hanzo snuffled at his skin and made lustful noises.

McCree regained enough strength to tighten his grip, yanking at Hanzo’s hair. The little nubs of bone burst through, velvety soft skin covering curling horns as Hanzo made an excited noise and rutted his hips into the couch cushions. The pillows around them were in disarray; a few had been shoved off the couch entirely and were now scattered on the floor.

“Yessss,” he hissed, “like that.”

The room wobbled, but McCree managed to fight his way up to a half-seated position. His abs burned for it, but hell, his whole _body_ burned. The only thing that seemed to soothe it was the ice-cold sensation of Hanzo pulling the waves of energy from his skin. McCree used his grip to tug Hanzo’s head back to his chest, sagging in relief when Hanzo latched onto his sweaty skin and started licking at the salt drying there, feeding from it.

All the attention had McCree’s blood rushing right to his dick, straining in his pants. His hips seemed to move of their own accord, humping lewdly into Hanzo’s powerful body. Hanzo started to wrestle him into stillness. Thinking he was going to be left again, McCree struggled harder, desperate for contact while he still had the strength to initiate it. He groaned in frustration as Hanzo’s iron fingers clamped down and held his hips still.

“Hush,” Hanzo scolded before starting to pull at his belt. McCree twitched as Hanzo pulled the belt off. Every tug of the leather over his crotch was excruciating.

He held up the buckle, inspecting it. “B-A-M-F, hm? How tacky,” he said, smiling. “I love it.” With that, he carefully set it aside.

Hanzo all but licked his chops as he wiggled down the couch, pulling McCree’s pants down as he went. He didn’t bother to take them off all the way, and his jeans and underwear dangled indelicately off one hairy ankle as Hanzo spread his legs wide and settled closer to McCree’s dick.

McCree flopped back into the disheveled cushions as Hanzo started to mouth around his dick. He didn’t go near it, no-- he took his time sniffing deeply, kissing at his inner thighs and chasing slips of the golden mist that drifted off McCree’s skin. His hands wrapped under McCree’s thighs to tug him close, and he spent long minutes licking and sucking at McCree’s balls as his cock sat heavy above, fat against his stomach.

McCree watched, eyes heavy, as Hanzo sucked one testicle into his mouth, gently rolling it around, massaging it with his tongue. His fingers were pawing at McCree’s thighs, and McCree’s skin burned where his tongue trailed. At first he thought it might just be the leftover spice from dinner, but something else burned in him wherever Hanzo’s saliva covered.

His veins felt like they were jumping, trying to all run to Hanzo’s touch. His heart drummed in his chest when Hanzo hummed. He made pleased noises every time McCree even halfheartedly participated, but this just hit him at his core.

Finally, McCree hit his limit, and something in him broke. He dazedly reached a hand up to caress the base of one magnificent horn. The soft skin covering it was blazing hot where it met the skin of his forehead, and Hanzo suddenly keened, mouth gaping wide to savor the taste of the energy that was skimming off McCree’s skin. It looked more concentrated around his groin, where Hanzo looked drunk with it, almost teary-eyed as McCree curled his nails into the thin skin around Hanzo’s horn.

“Ah!” he yelped, head pushing into McCree’s fingers. “I’m so hungry,” he said, tongue darting out to catch a dash of sweat and energy on McCree’s abdomen. “And you are such a _feast_.”

McCree tugged his head down. His mouth hung wide open, gasping as Hanzo hungrily mouthed along the length of his cock, tongue chasing a vein along it.

Hanzo paused, admiring the gleaming metal in his shaft.

He hummed appreciatively, drawing his tongue around the lowest barbel. “I knew I made the right decision.” He continued up, skimming his tongue over the entire ladder of six. He lingered on the thin skin over the bars. It was especially sensitive, and McCree’s cock jumped when Hanzo sucked along the entire line, teeth clicking against the closures on either side.

McCree groaned as Hanzo continued to play with the metal, gently pushing them back and forth. He dug his fingers into the horn he still had a grip on, rubbing the impossibly thin skin that covered the base of it. He could see the miniscule blood vessels blushing around the skin where they met his skull, and Hanzo whined when he gripped more gently and started to stroke along the firm surface of his large, curved horn.

They fed into each other, pulling and pushing back and forth as Hanzo buried himself between McCree’s legs, pulling McCree’s cock into the plush suction of his mouth and lapping up precum while McCree played with Hanzo’s hair and horns. They felt nice, once he got used to the fact that they even existed.

Hanzo huffed and tugged on McCree’s hips again, lifting him up off the couch. Hanzo was kneeling now, and he gripped McCree’s bare ass and pulled, spreading his cheeks to knead at the firm muscles. McCree’s legs dangled over Hanzo’s shoulders, toes curled as Hanzo buried his face in McCree’s taint. He sucked and massaged around McCree’s asshole with his tongue, drawing breathy sounds from McCree’s throat.  

“Fuck!” McCree swore softly as Hanzo’s prickly nails dug into his asscheeks, drawing pinpricks of blood. Hanzo soothed the spots with his tongue, smacking wet kisses over each miniscule wound.

Shit, Hanzo’s _wound_. McCree groaned. That should have been a tip-off. He stared at Hanzo’s broad shoulders and the round muscles of his arms. There were no signs that he’d even been in a struggle recently-- just hard, strong muscles flexing as Hanzo gripped McCree’s hips and sloppily ate him out. McCree’s strength was returning now, but all he wanted to do with it was grab at Hanzo’s head and pull him closer.

Hanzo complied at the slightest tug on his horns. He grunted and nearly folded McCree in half in his efforts to spread the pucker of his hole open, working his tongue inside. McCree could feel it undulating inside him, thicker and longer than it should have been, pushing against his walls. One of Hanzo’s hands reached around to grip his neglected cock.

Hanzo jerked McCree off as he tongue-fucked his hole. His thumb played with the piercings, sliding up the pierced skin as his fingers delicately played with McCree’s foreskin. The red, meaty head of his cock peeked out of it, dripping slightly, and Hanzo slipped his finger through the copious precum, savoring the slide. Hanzo pulled back slightly, licking a bit off his fingers and moaning before diving back down to suck along McCree’s perineum.

McCree’s hands were still shaky, and his head was spinning. It was now partly from lack of oxygen-- he was having a hard time getting a lot of air with his lungs crushed like this. For whatever reason, he was able to see what Hanzo was eating. Thin tendrils of golden mist poured off of his skin. It trailed after Hanzo, as if it wanted his attention. Gooseflesh followed in its wake. More than just carnal lust, Hanzo was feasting on his energy-- and yet, he didn’t feel depleted.

Every other victim had ended up in the hospital, ravaged and then apparently almost fucked into a coma. This couldn’t possibly be the most intense thing Hanzo was capable of if that was the end result.

Then again, every other victim had been found in more public locations than a secluded mountain cabin.

With three deadbolts on the door.

And a very hot tenant.

McCree could feel his shoulders slipping on the couch cushions. The pillows were now almost all shoved onto the floor, and he was sinking awkwardly into the crease of the couch. The wall of it rose up around him, and he took in his surroundings, suddenly aware of the fading smell of dinner. Their plates sat only feet away, long abandoned.

Was he the last course?

Shit. He considered: possible death? Or getting laid?

Mauling?

Sex.

He made a decision: he’d been put in the hospital for worse reasons.

McCree opened his legs wider, eager to give Hanzo access. Hanzo’s hand was fast and firm on his cock, twisting quickly when McCree spurted a bit against his hand. He caught the line of it, gathered it in his palm, and then spread McCree’s own fluids along his taint, using it to ease the shallow press of a finger into his asshole. McCree clenched, breath short.

McCree’s chin was forced into his chest, neck tight as he grabbed Hanzo’s long hair and pulled. Hanzo laughed breathlessly and only kissed at his thigh, pushing his elegant finger in until his knuckles were pressed up against the swell of McCree’s ass. Hanzo wiggled it experimentally. When McCree’s calf twitched, a feral grin spread on his face.

With one free hand McCree grabbed at Hanzo’s body. He was easy enough to reach-- McCree’s ass may have been in the air, but the rest of his back was flush against the line of Hanzo’s body. When he peeked around, he could see Hanzo’s detailed tattoo-- a primordial dragon scrolling across his shoulder and arm, teeth bared on his wrist. It seemed almost alive, glinting in the light sheen of sweat on Hanzo’s forearm where it was wrapped around McCree’s thighs, holding him in place.

McCree dug his hands into Hanzo’s thigh, only to meet the soft cloth of the running pants Hanzo had been wearing since McCree had first found him so few hours ago.

He made a noise of confusion. Hanzo still had his pants on. Why did Hanzo still have his pants on?

McCree tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled grunt. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his jaw weak. Groaning frustratedly, he settled for tugging at the giving fabric of Hanzo’s pants. It stretched in his grip, creaking in warning before Hanzo threw his weight forward. The movement dislodged his fingers, but it also forced Hanzo to press the bulge of his erection against McCree’s body. A needy noise escaped McCree as Hanzo hummed against his asshole and twisted his finger deeper, rubbing up against his nerves as he stroked McCree from the inside out.

McCree tried awkwardly to get a hand on Hanzo’s groin, cupping the tent of his thin pants. Was the demon even wearing underwear?

Hanzo snuffled against McCree’s hairy thighs, licking at his fingers before slipping another one in. The stretch of it was dry and it burned. His muscles could be forgiving, but there was only so much spit could do. McCree thwacked at Hanzo’s leg insistently.

McCree’s tongue still wasn’t working, but Hanzo seemed to get the gist of his panicked eye darting.

“You will be fine, hunter,” Hanzo said smugly. His voice was deeper. Huskier. His teeth looked sharper. Was his tongue a little more...prehensile than the last time McCree checked?

McCree watched in amazement as Hanzo lifted McCree’s fingers to the hinge of the demon’s jaw and had him press in. Where there would have normally been a pulse point, McCree found instead a hard node, swollen like a berry. Hanzo guided McCree’s fingers to gently massage it, and Hanzo shuddered as he started salivating. When he dived back into the valley of McCree’s ass, Hanzo groaned, and McCree was suddenly aware of the spiking hot, viscous nature of whatever was coating Hanzo’s tongue.

Thicker than spit, Hanzo fed a steady line of the slick into McCree’s open hole, stuffing it in with his fingers. His long, nimble tongue worked alongside them to keep him open. McCree’s cock jumped. He had a small pool of precum on his chest now from where it had dripped down. He felt raw, open. His shoulders ached from being held up for so long, and he knew there must be a sweat stain under him on the couch cushions, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Hanzo curled a third finger in his ass and moved the three of them together in a wave. McCree jumped, a wordless shout punched out of his throat.

Christ, he hadn’t even gotten the guy’s pants off yet.

He tried to remedy this by pulling at Hanzo’s pants again, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on his waistband. When one finger caught on the edge, he yanked, and Hanzo’s cock sprung free.

McCree grinned drunkenly. First success of the night.

Hanzo shifted closer. His sharp teeth glinted in the lamplight and McCree considered himself a winner just for the way Hanzo’s pupils dilated when McCree got a hand on his dick. He couldn’t see it, but something felt strange about it. He decided to put that out of his mind, grasping desperately at Hanzo’s hard length. The whole damn situation was off, so what was one more degree of weird?

Hanzo panted, eyes flitting greedily over McCree’s body as he worked his fingers into McCree’s ass. He put all the strength of his forearm into each thrust, working in his pinky and flattening his hand out to stretch McCree’s hole to the widest it had ever been. McCree could feel every millimeter of space between each digit as Hanzo flexed and curled his fingers, wriggling them against his prostate and filling him up.

Hanzo turned and sunk his carnivore’s teeth into McCree’s thigh. A trickle of blood oozed out, but what followed it was almost enough to make up for the pain.

A thin stream of golden light welled up with the blood like watered down ichor, glowing as it ran down his leg. Hanzo chased it with his tongue, and the wound started to close, but not before McCree was overcome by a surging wave of pure lust.

There was practically a whole hand in his ass, and he couldn’t do anything but moan and jerk spasmodically as he was overridden by a current of heat down his spine. It spread deliciously through his limbs, leaving him loose and malleable.

Hanzo sunk his teeth in again, this time on the other thigh, and followed it with a powerful suck. McCree could _feel_ it as the energy was pulled out of him, ice cold and soothing against the raging warmth that seared through his veins.

Hanzo’s hand rocked into him hard enough to put a crick in his back. Fuck, he was almost rolled over now. McCree’s own cock dangled in front of his mouth tantalizingly as Hanzo milked him. A string of precum dripped onto his chin and McCree opened his mouth wide, moaning in short jerks as Hanzo used his full weight to thrust his fingers into his ass. McCree’s hands scrabbled for purchase, struggling to reach for Hanzo’s cock before he hit his own end.

Hanzo bit once more, sharp teeth piercing the thick muscles of his calf, suckling a line of shallow bites down to his ankle, kissing his way back up. The demon’s hips were gyrating now, thrusting shallowly into McCree’s fist as he took his fill of the hunter’s energy reserves. His horns collided with McCree’s knees, scraping roughly as Hanzo sucked up what he could.

The room was spinning, the edges of his vision going blurry. Hanzo’s cock was thick and hard and slick in his hand, and McCree’s mouth watered at the idea of trying to fit it all in his mouth. Christ, would he even get a chance?

The demon’s dick was wider at the end, curved upwards sharply and...ridged? McCree’s thumb slipped over the bumps of cartilaginous tissue that cocooned the base of it like a sheath, hard and too firm under his slippery fingers. Hanzo was grunting roughly and jerking into his grip as he bit and sucked at McCree’s legs, pulling more and more of that golden light out of the hunter’s body. Every nip and lick had McCree’s heart rate skyrocketing, until he thought a fucking hummingbird must be hatching in his chest.

Hanzo grunted and panted and _pushed_ until McCree was suddenly coming like a fountain. Hot splashes of come hit his chin and splattered on his chest hair. He tightened his fist in shock, and god, Hanzo just fucking _took_ it, thrusting into his hand and using McCree’s body until he was satisfied.

Hanzo twitched as he came, spilling fat dribbles of come over McCree’s loosening fist. He was still bent over with his legs in the air, and he was having a hard time breathing.

The floor swam; the room spun, and as Hanzo pulled his strong fingers out of McCree, the hunter started to slip away in unconsciousness.

\--

McCree blinked groggily. His eyes wouldn’t focus. They were crossing, and he felt vaguely like he had a hangover. He groaned and closed them again.

He was damp; he had gathered that much. Something soft and cool was running over his chest, soothing what felt like burns. His breath hitched as the sensation passed over his neck.

He squinted one eye open.

Hanzo peered down at him curiously. Gone were the horns; his eyes were a warm amber, his hair a soft black sheet around his shoulders. He looked...ordinary.

If you could ever call him that.

Hanzo blinked.

“Awake already?”

McCree groaned deeply, trying to roll his heavy limbs. He felt like he’d gotten into a fight with a brick shithouse. None of his limbs wanted to cooperate, but he managed to loosely grope for and locate his phone from where it had fallen into the vast crevasse of the couch. He twitched his hand to force it to camera mode, then clicked the shutter.

A blurry photo of Hanzo’s bare chest showed up. The faintest smudge of his tattoo could be seen in the corner.

McCree added it to the Overwatch forum’s thread, cheekily posting it with the first title he could think of before letting his arm drop back to the dirty couch cushions. He closed his eyes again, intent on passing right back out.

He heard more than saw Hanzo chase his phone. The demon laughed.

“‘Death by dicking’? Are you serious?”

McCree grunted as Hanzo ran a the cloth over his legs, chasing the remnants of blood that spotted his skin. God, he was tired.

“Can’t think of a better way to go, sweetheart.”

McCree sighed lazily as Hanzo continued to clean him. Every part of him was heavy. It was almost too much effort to take in a deep breath, but he made himself pull in the air he needed, just to feel the stretch of his lungs. He was still breathing. What else was new?

Eyes still closed, McCree arched his back and stretched, cracking his joints as Hanzo caressed the curve of his hip with blunt fingers. This was about the most satisfied he’d felt in weeks.

“What, cleaning me up before you hand me over to the medics?”

Hanzo made a noise of neutral acknowledgment, but kept calmly wiping him down. He couldn’t have been out that long.

A second later: “What are you talking about?”

McCree waited for the follow-up; a joke, maybe, or a threat. When it didn’t come, he blinked his eyes open, squinting against the glare of the overhead light.

Hanzo looked genuinely confused.

McCree made an effort to prop himself on his elbows. When his neck refused to cooperate, he let his head thump back onto the thick cushion below him, but kept his elbows stiff. Had to keep some semblance of control, he thought blearily.

“The…” he paused. “The attacks?”

Hanzo nodded. His hair was mussed, probably from where McCree had fisted his hands in it. It sat like a tangled halo as he tilted his head curiously. “Which _I_ posted about?”

“...as a _trap_?”

Hanzo paused, dropping the damp cloth to the floor before pinching the bridge of his nose. McCree saw him take a deep, steadying breath before speaking again.

“...Were you under the impression that I was trying to murder you?” His tone was prim, impartial.

Suddenly self-conscious, McCree took half a second to consider before plunging ahead as usual.

“I’d assumed so, yeah, considering the whole ‘horny devil’ bit you had going, there.”

“Oh, my god.” Hanzo let go of McCree’s leg and turned away, dropping his face into his hands, hunched over his knees. McCree noted that they were both still very naked. “My brother is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Somewhere in the distance, McCree heard a clock ticking. It did nothing to sooth his nerves, and only made him more aware of how late it must be. It had been cold outside earlier, he thought. How much colder would it be now, shrouded by embarrassment?

Hanzo looked at him shrewdly through steepled fingers.

“I brought you here to seduce you, you fool, not kill you _._ Someone comes into my territory, my  _home,_  and starts terrorizing my food source?” he shuddered. "It's exhausting to try and deal with alone. It's been weeks since I've had a good meal. The council said they would inform whoever took the job of the circumstances. I was under the impression that they were organized, not obtuse."

McCree blinked. “Well, you got one of those right.” He shivered. Tired as he was, the air was still cold, and he was still awfully. “So…?”

Hanzo stood, roughly tossing the couch cushions back in place from the floor. McCree grunted as Hanzo manhandled him into a position that let the demon stick a pillow behind his head.

“So I graciously ‘let you go,’ I suppose. _Shit_.” Hanzo rubbed at a temple, snatching his sweatshirt off the arm of the couch and angrily shrugging it on. McCree couldn’t help but watch his ass as the demon stalked away. Pissed off or not, it was a nice rear.

McCree fought his uncoordinated limbs to sit up, then gripped the back of the couch and threw his weight onto his wobbly legs. Fuck, this was just like the first time he figured out how to break into his step-dad’s liquor cabinet.

“Oh, _c’mon_ ,” he called out. “I’m...I’m sorry?”

No answer. Somewhere in the distance he heard a shower turn on.

“It was an honest mistake,” he called out to no one. “Anyone would have made it.”

He slapped a hand over his face, dragging his fingers down his cheeks as he leaned bodily against the couch. His coat was still draped over the back of it. He looked back at the cozy living room. Their plates were still on the coffee table, too, the pot of tea tepid next to them.

“... _fuck_.”

\--

McCree jerked awake when he heard the pipes squeak as they were shut off. He was still disoriented, but he made an effort to look presentable, patting down his flannel where he’d managed to button it up more-or-less evenly. After several long minutes, Hanzo emerged from what McCree assumed to be his bedroom, toweling his hair dry.

 McCree cleared his throat. 

Hanzo looked up, clearly surprised to see McCree still in his home. He rolled his eyes and walked over, snatching up the teapot. McCree clutched at his wrist.

“I’m sorry, alright?”

Hanzo scoffed and tried to tug his arm back. “Save it for your _forums_ , hunter.”

McCree steadied his grip. “Okay, look, I fucked up.”

Hanzo looked at him expectantly.

“I’m _sorry_. I shouldn’t have assumed. Althoughhh--” at the dead look Hanzo gave him, he rerouted, “--it was mighty foolish of me to just accuse you like that. Bad business practices, and all,” he muttered.

Hanzo’s nostrils flared. “Did you ever stop to wonder why I was so…so _grateful_?”

McCree looked up sheepishly. “Well, I started to question it about the time the horns popped out, but--”

“I was _grateful_ because I requested help from the council and they _sent_ it.” Hanzo’s jaw was clenched, and he yanked his arm free. The teapot swung perilously on its handle, water sloshing. “ _Regardless_ of who I was.”

McCree searched his memories. Something was still off about this.

Seeing the vacant look on his face, Hanzo flexed, and out furled the horns, the claws. He stared at McCree with those liquid gold eyes again, raising an eyebrow. At his blank expression, he muttered, “Are you serious?”

McCree made a “who, me?” face, trying to hide his discomfort.

“Genji is never going to let this go.” Hanzo dropped onto the couch, cradling the teapot. The tips of his horns poked against the overstuffed cushions.

One molten metal eye flicked over to McCree’s face, and Hanzo elaborated.

“Hanzo Shimada, formerly of the Shimada clan of Hanamura, Japan.” He sighed. “Minor sex demon, triathlete, and egregiously bad communicator, apparently.”

McCree smiled.

“Jesse McCree, hunter and colossal idiot, at your service, if you still want me.”

Hanzo looked at him, a wry smile twisting his face. He sloshed the teapot in his lap.

  
“I’ll put on a fresh pot. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

McCree pulled out his phone and opened up his hunt file, getting ready for an even longer evening. 

"Let's start with what kind of thing would intrude on another demon's territory."


	2. Chapter 2

McCree’s jaw cracked as he yawned widely, hot breath steaming into the freezing pre-dawn air. He scratched at his scruff.

 “Remind me why we’re out here again? It’s the asscrack of dawn. Moon’s still up, Hanzo. This is inhumane.”

 Hanzo smirked from where he was winding a piece of wire around a trap McCree had concocted.

 "Then it is a good thing one of us is not human.” With a clip of wire, Hanzo stood up, grabbed his materials, and headed back to where McCree was seated on a boulder. As he started assembling yet another lure, Hanzo continued: “Besides, you know as well as I do why we’re out here. It’s better to start sooner rather than later with a creature like this, and you _are_ a professional.” Hanzo looked at him pointedly and nudged the materials closer to McCree’s hands. “I expect to have this over with quickly.”

McCree yawned again, then picked up the materials, grumbling a bit. “Yeah, yeah. Gimme a break-- had a rough night.” He idly scratched at a mark on his neck-- one of several reddish blooms that remained as evidence of his first close encounter with Hanzo the evening before.

At least Hanzo had the good grace to look away when he laughed.

They’d talked late into the night about what to do about the intruding demon in town, but McCree had finally begged off for a nap before they got to work. Long hours of planning combined with the exhausting experience of being fed off had left him drained of motivation for anything but a deep slumber.

It hadn’t lasted long. Hanzo woke him up while the sky was still pitch dark, and led him out into the woods surrounding his cabin.

Hanzo owned quite a bit of property, apparently.

“It’s nothing compared to my family’s estates in Japan,” he’d said as they wandered through the tall, fall-bared trees, “but I liked the idea of having my own property and land was very cheap here.” He’d ended up with several acres of empty forest, a little house, and not much else.

Now, however, the sun was just on the verge of coming up-- its telltale glow was starting to color the horizon-- and Hanzo and McCree were still a ways from finished.

They were quiet as they worked. McCree had devised a simple tripwire-type series of charms that they could place around the property to surround Hanzo’s house, effectively creating an alarm system in case the encroaching monster tried to get close to Hanzo’s immediate territory. It consisted of a mess of wire, branches, some paper and ink, salt, and iron filings-- all things that, between the two of them, Hanzo and McCree had been able to throw together into a passable kit.

They were now working on assembling the different components and placing them in a radius around Hanzo’s home. The problem? Hanzo had a lot of land. McCree’s fingers were getting cold and stiff, but Hanzo seemed just fine in his thin jacket. McCree wondered if that was a demon thing, or if Hanzo was naturally just a little tougher than him. Even bound up in his thick coat and flannel, McCree was noticeably chilled, and the whole situation was just killing him.

 “Alright!” McCree smacked the materials down on the ground, finishing off his fifth charm. “Let’s place these suckers and get moving. You’ll have to do the tethering, what with it being your land. A piece of hair should about do it, I think.”  He slowly stood up, stretching his stiff back before drawing out a cigarillo and lighting it.

He brushed himself down-- some damp leaves were stuck to his ass-- and he swatted to try and get the dirt off. He felt Hanzo pluck something wet and slippery off his hip. He flushed and moved away, gathering up the traps they’d made in his arms.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask--” McCree jumped over a low root, almost tripping-- “but why am I still alive?”

Hanzo stopped, work materials in hand. “Excuse me?”

“I mean-- and don’t take this the wrong way, honey-- but if this other thing is putting people in the hospital when it fucks their brains out, why am I still out here fucking around with salt and iron before I’ve even had my coffee?”

Hanzo huffed, then raised his chin defiantly.

“Because _I_ am not an _amateur._ ” He primly swept a lock of hair behind his ear. “It’s likely that whatever is doing this is still quite young.” Then he suddenly looked away. “I meant to apologize for that, by the way. I should have gotten clearer permission. Or...at least informed you of what it meant.”

McCree waved his hand. “Nah, you got it. I said yes, I had a good time, it’s over with.”

“But it is _not_ over with,” Hanzo stubbornly interjected. “You’re still here, and it must be addressed. One thing I promised myself when I left the clan was that I would not become like them. Our bodily fluids have...properties...and I would not like to force them on anyone. That I have done so to you bothers me more than I would like to admit.”

They walked a little longer before McCree responded.

“Look, I’ll admit that the original circumstances were...not ideal. But if we’re bein’ honest,” he paused, drawing on his cigarillo for a second, “I probably would have said yes without the magic spit thing. So there’s that.”

“Oh.” Hanzo clutched the bundle of sticks and spool of wire. “ _Oh_. Well. Alright. It’s just...” he hesitated.

McCree placed another charm on a tree branch, tethering it with one of Hanzo’s long black hairs. “Just what, partner?”

“I’m usually so careful. Everyone else I feed from is fine, if a little tired. You _fainted_. I hadn’t had a satisfying meal in a while, so I must have been...overexcited. But it worries me.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “‘Everyone else’?”

“I have some acquaintances in town.” McCree waited, but he did not elaborate.

“Hanzo, buddy, I’m fine. I promise. Get me some flapjacks and coffee and I’ll be good as new.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

They spent a good couple more hours walking around the property hanging the charms. At each one, Hanzo drew off a strand of his hair, which McCree used to tether the charm to a tree branch before uttering a brief incantation.

It was rough work-- the woods were cold, even with the rising sun starting to send out slivers of heat into the scene. By the end of it McCree was chilled, stiff, and sore again-- ready to head back to Hanzo’s and pass out on his couch again, breakfast or no.

They were all but done with the last charm when McCree’s phone jingled at him-- an alert from the Overwatch forums.

He clicked it open and frowned.

“What is it?” Hanzo peer curiously around McCree’s shoulder.

“Another victim. This one ain’t too far from here,” he said, brows furrowed. “Down the street, actually.”

Hanzo drew in a steep breath.

“Say, last night you said it ran off before it could do anything, right?”

Hanzo rand his hand over his shoulder in memory. “Besides gouge me, but yes,”

“Then it looks like it might have found a bit of fast food on the way home. Let’s go.”

\--

Hanzo hissed the moment they broke the treeline. It only took McCree a moment to see why: cops were swarming a small house on what was probably normally a very quiet street. A police car was parked out front, and a few officers swarmed around the yard. The front window looked like it’d been smashed in.

Hanzo let out a string of what sounded like swears in Japanese. At least, McCree was pretty sure they were swears. Sounded pissed off enough.

“What?” McCree side-eyed him. “This is good, right? They found the victim in time.”

“Yes, but--” Hanzo scented the air and McCree startled when his eyes promptly shifted color to a thick gold. “ _Asshole_ . He’s going after my... _mine_.”

He rushed off before McCree could even get in a quick “What?” to his name. McCree chased after him.

“Hey. Hey!” He grabbed for Hanzo’s arm and was shaken off. “Take it easy. What the hell is happening?”

He was ignored.

“Excuse me!” Hanzo signaled an officer on the nearby scene. They glanced up and started walking over. “What is happening here?”

“Well,” the officer scratched at her notepad, “I’m really not supposed to say, Hanzo, and you know you’re not supposed to ask. But if you ask me, it’s just a heap of trouble.” She looked at Hanzo sympathetically. McCree was quick to note that his eyes had returned to normal the second Hanzo had spoken. “Listen, sweetheart, I know you’re close, but this is not the time for heroics. Just stay out of this.”

Hanzo looked shaken, but less livid. “Is she at least okay?”

McCree looked at Hanzo. “‘She’?” Hanzo didn’t respond.

“Yeah, hon’, she’ll be fine. She’s en route to the hospital now, but I doubt they’ll hold her long. She’s a real spitfire.”

McCree was left flitting his head back and forth, trying to make sense of the conversation. ‘His’?

\--

Hanzo would hardly talk on the cab drive to the hospital. All he would let loose was that the woman was someone he had an ‘acquaintanceship’ with on a regular basis. McCree wasn’t sure if he should be jealous or not. Most of him said absolutely not, but the part of his memory that remembered getting his brain sucked out through his dick the night before reared up in defiance.

That burn of jealousy was tamped down a bit when they arrived at the hospital and met the person Hanzo was so worked up about.

An older woman-- probably in her 60’s, at least-- was seated calmly in a bed. She looked at Hanzo with pure delight when he showed up, eyes gleaming. McCree settled into the background.

“Oh! Hanzo, dear, you showed up. They said someone might be behind us.” She peered around Hanzo’s thick body at McCree. “And who’s this?”

McCree shrugged uncomfortably.

Hanzo took her hand gently. “Marie, this Jesse. He’s helping me out for awhile.”

Marie’s eyebrows waggled. “Is he helping, or _helping_?”

Hanzo blushed and looked at the ceiling. McCree put on his best shit-eating grin.

“A bit of both, ma’am.” He gave Hanzo a curious glance-- _Does she know?_ And Hanzo jerked his head, indicating yes. “I’m in town on a hunt, and Hanzo and I are working together on it. We’re gonna get the big nasty that seems to have gotten you.”

She flapped her hands, though it seemed to take a lot of energy to do so. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. The damn fool didn’t have me tricked for but a hot second. Inconsiderate as hell, too.” She patted Hanzo’s hand. “It was purely a dine-and-dash operation, Hanzo. Hardly worth the string of police cars.”

“But you are okay?”

Marie smiled tiredly. “Oh, absolutely. My fibromyalgia is flaring up, but they’ve got me on a lot of pain killers. I’ll be out of here before you can blink."

McCree looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but I have to ask...what exactly is the nature of your relationship?”

Hanzo petted Marie’s hand, feeling her pulse. An IV was threaded into her elbow, and he followed the vein with his eyes and fidgeted.

Marie snorted at him in amusement and answered for him.

“Symbiotic beneficiaries, I suppose. He eats up my pain. We’re friends. I have a daughter that looks his age, and he’s old enough to be my father, so it’s an odd fit, but we do alright.” She looked around, then whispered conspiratorially. “Hanzo here is a huge sap for bad romance movies.” Hanzo squawked as Marie beamed. “And I get bored on weekends. We make it work!”

As Hanzo sputtered, McCree pressed a little further. “So you see each other often, then?”

Marie lay back, clearly exhausted. Maybe the encounter had gotten to her a little more than she’d let on. “Oh, yes. At least once a week. We had a little lunch date all set up for tomorrow, but it looks like we might have to cancel, Hanners.”

McCree’s smile about split his face in two. “Hanners?” He whispered to Hanzo.

Hanzo glared. “Only Marie may call me that.”

“That’s right, I’ve earned it!” She cackled, then coughed. Hanzo was quick to gently pat her back.

When she was calmed down, he leaned on the edge of the bed and took on a more serious look.

“What happened, Marie?”

The woman leaned back on the bed. Her thick gray hair coiled around her head in a neat braid, and she looked lively but for the sagging edges to her mouth.

“It was good enough to imitate you through a curtain, is what happened,” she said, pulling her hand away from Hanzo’s to steeple it in her lap. “I glanced through, saw it was you, opened the door, and bam!” she clapped. “Granny hits the floor. Thank god it was only a small slip, or I might not be able to tease you so in front of your new man.”

Hanzo ignored the jibe. “Did he feed?”

“Yes, yes, but it was nothing unsavory. He yanked my arm and started licking me like a giant mutt. Disgusting, truly, but it was enough for him until I started screaming.” She gripped Hanzo’s wrist, frowning. “It really looked like you up until the moment I could see it clearly. The angles were all wrong, like a poorly-sculpted knockoff.”

 McCree tapped out a few notes on his phone.

 Hanzo quietly asked, “Did it do anything else?”

Marie frowned. “It didn’t bite me, if that’s what you’re asking.” She patted him comfortingly. “I know you said your kind only do that for special reasons.”

McCree’s fingers paused above his phone, ears burning. He took particular care not to look up at Hanzo.

“Oh! But it did mutter something at me in another language. It sounded vaguely East Asian. Had the right kind of cadence to it, anyway. I didn’t hear it clearly enough to really get a feel for it.”

Hanzo sat up stiffly. McCree noted that his face was a little pink.

“We should go,” he said, standing up straight once again. He shot McCree a warning glance. “I have someone I need to contact that may be able to assist us.”

“Oh?” Marie looked pleased. “If you see the thing again, shoot it for me. It broke one of my windows and I heard it was going to rain tonight. I do so hate to deal with wet carpet.”

“I’ll make sure someone will block it for you, Marie,” Hanzo reassured you. “And I’ll shoot it if the situation calls for it.”

\--

Hanzo assured Jesse that the call could be made back at his house, but when Jesse’s stomach growled violently, he suggested they stop for lunch.

“There’s a diner up the road,” he said as they walked through town. “I have a feeling you will like it. You wanted to eat, yes? It has pancakes and more.”

McCree perked up. “Coffee?”

“The best I have ever had.”

The diner turned out to be an old-fashioned place that seemed 7to specialize in shoving massive amounts of food on one plate. By the time McCree was halfway through his plate of pancakes and bacon, he was about ready to burst.

He sat back and watched Hanzo eat at a more sedate pace, neatly cutting up his omelette. McCree sipped his coffee-- rich and nutty, perfect for the weather.

“Say…” he started. “If you feed off...I dunno, energy or whatever...why eat regular food?”

Hanzo chewed thoughtfully.

“I need others’ energy to sustain my form, but I still need calories to live like anyone else. My grasp on, oh... _humanity_ , I suppose... it slips when I haven’t fed from people in a while.” He wiped his face with a napkin. “Come to think of it, that may be why the attacker is such a clumsy shapeshifter. If it is young and starving, it is probably desperate.”

“Yikes. Not a lot of opportunities for youngsters, then?”

“Typically there would be a shadow system of sorts. Not quite an apprenticeship, but someone to look after you while you learn your way around the human world. My family had its own system.”

“‘Had’?”

“The complicated dietary requirements and isolated mentorship system are only a couple of the reasons my clan has all but been eradicated.”

McCree propped his hand up on his chin and sipped his coffee. “You don’t seem particularly bothered by that notion,” he said.

“No. I am not,” Hanzo said blandly. “My brother, however, is alive and well, and for that I am grateful.”

“And he doesn’t think it’s a mite strange for you to be settled down like this?”

Hanzo chuckled, and McCree’s heart did a small flip. “My younger brother has been hopelessly in love with a human monk for the last 20 years of his life, so I will just say that it could be stranger.”

McCree sputtered. “Twen-- _twenty_ years? You said you were 32!”

Hanzo nodded calmly. “We age much more slowly than humans. I think Genji calculated it once...somewhere around a third of the rate? So I’d be roughly 90 or so by human standards.”

McCree let out a low whistle, tipping his hat. “Holy shit, Marie wasn’t kidding about you bein’ her father’s age. Damn. Can you get us the senior discount on the grub?”

They finished their meal, trading idle chatter. Hanzo said he had a contact in India-- a lamia that had some prophetic skill and might be able to help.

“Satya has made her living making small predictions,” he said seriously. “Usually just things like the health of a baby or the results of a matchmaking. But she has some skill in projected vision and may be able to help us locate our target.”

McCree started to yawn a bit-- they were heading into late afternoon territory now, and the winter sun was starting its early descent over the crest of the mountains.

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Alright, let’s get going then.” He stopped to pat his kit first. “I have a few things to restock, but we can meet back at your place and wait for the thing to start harassing you again, yeah?”

Hanzo nodded. “Considering how close it got yesterday, I would not be surprised if it tried to directly involve itself on my property tonight.”

McCree smiled confidently. “Then we’ll get it, darlin’. You can be sure of that.”

\--

They had split up to take care of their errands-- McCree to the hardware store to restock his hunting kit, and Hanzo to make his call-- with a promise to meet back at the house.

Hanzo’s hand had lingered on his shoulder when they parted ways.

Now, however, with his kit restocked, McCree started the trek back towards Hanzo’s home. It wasn’t terribly far-- just a couple miles from the bar he’d been in the night before, which he passed with a thought to buy Hanzo a drink later-- and he figured he could hoof it. A walk would probably do his stomach some good. He was still full of breakfast meats and pancakes.

He knew he was on Hanzo’s property when he encountered one of the charms they’d tied to a tree. The hair that bound it was so fine it was nearly invisible, giving the charm the illusion that it was simply floating in the air. McCree inspected it, and, finding it intact, stepped past the barrier it provided.

That was when things started to go wrong. Just as McCree passed the charm, it burst, spraying salt and fine iron shavings everywhere. McCree instantly drew his weapon, whirling around in the half-lighting of the setting sun, looking for the source of the disturbance.

The woods were eerily still, and suddenly McCree noticed the lack of birdsong; even the creatures that would normally wake with the moon were absent. All around him, it was as if the shadows had been glued to their posts.

Something cracked behind him.

He twisted around. Twenty feet in front of him, a shambling creature wavered. It had approximately the same proportions as Hanzo-- his height, his bulk-- but where Hanzo had grace, this... _thing_...wobbled on its feet. Its long black hair was matted and tangled in front of its face, blessedly blocking McCree’s view. He was was sure he wouldn’t like what he’d see if it was clear.

He lined up his shot.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doin’ here, but you’re disturbing some very nice people.”

 

“They want _him…_ ” it rasped. Its voice was higher than he’d expected, a little whiny. “They want a monster...they can have...what about _me…_?”

“Well, for a monster, he’s pretty dang polite. Asks for permission and all that.”

It lurched closer, stumbling drunkenly. “Why ask... when you can take? They all want it anyway.”

“Maybe you’re young, or just stupid, I don’t know--” It growled low, a sub-human rumble. “-- _but_ you look like a pretty smart cookie.” He started to slowly circle back around to the inside of the barrier line. “Takes some chops to shift like that, kiddo.”

It paused, seeming to consider his words. Its head jerked a little, proud. Its matted hair swung around its dirty, mud-splattered face. Wet leaves clung to its clothing.

“I was the best in my spawn circle.”

McCree tried not to think about that concept, opting instead to take another couple  steps back towards the property line. He was a couple feet inside the barrier now. Hanzo would have been alerted when the barrier line broke. He was marginally safer here.

It stalked forward, beginning to close the gap.

“I was the _best,_ ” it repeated.

“Look, why don’t we just calm down and--”

The whole time they were talking, McCree had slowly started to lower his gun. He’d started to wonder if it was worth making a show of faith and talking to it.

Which is, of course, when it lunged. It threw its dirty, scrappy body at him, nails first. McCree watched in astonishment as short, pointed horns poked out of its scalp-- much smaller than Hanzo’s, he noted.

Its claws tangled in his thick overcoat and knocked his gun out of his grasp and into the underbrush, leaving him to wrestle with the creature. It constantly shifted its shape, fluctuating between small and thin and relatively bulky, making it hard to maintain a grip on any one part of its body. Hanzo’s frame seemed to be the largest it could make itself, but that was enough. McCree remembered distinctly how big Hanzo could make himself look, and his shape had the musculature to back it up.

They rolled, and the creature slashed at him with its claws, trying to access his skin. When it found his bare wrist, it clutched desperately, mouth latching on. It would have been simply disgusting on the best of days, but in the near-dark in the damp woods, rolling with this filthy, terrifying animal of a person, McCree was more than spooked. It had razor-sharp teeth, and he could feel them graze the thin skin of his inner arm as it shoved his sleeves out of the way and started sucking on the skin like a leech.

McCree could see the golden mist start to furl off his exposed skin, and against his will, he started to feel a familiar flush of heat roll over his body, leaving him lightheaded. He struggled, scrabbling for his gun in the leaf litter, but it was nowhere to be found.

This feeder was far more aggressive than Hanzo had been. Where Hanzo had taken his time and skimmed, this demon practically scarfed down its meal. Red welts, the beginning of hickeys, started to form on his arm, blooming purple and green where the monster’s mouth trailed. Its nails clawed at him roughly. Ribbons of blood twisted down his arm and across his neck. He had two thick lines across his face, too, bleeding sluggishly as he struggled.

He still had a free arm. Twitching his wrist, he unlocked a wickedly thick knife from his wrist sheath, swinging it forward. He slashed at the demon’s side and managed to cut into the meat above its ribs. It howled, clutching its body, then threw itself forwards and forced McCree to the  ground.

“I just want to _eat!_ ” It shouted, snarling. McCree caught a glimpse of its eyes. Like Hanzo’s, they were a molten gold, but this one’s eyes were streaked with bronze, and they burned furiously.

“Well you can’t have _me_ , honey!” His voice was a little higher than usual-- not a squeak, but indignant, panicked. The beginning heat of arousal burned in his gut, stagnant.

They rolled in the dirt, bumping into roots and rocks as they went. McCree no longer knew where they were in relation to the property line or even the closest charm. His gun was gone, his grip on his knife was getting looser with every bit of energy the demon in front of him managed to glean, and it was dark as shit out here. He could barely see but for the broken moonlight coming through the thick weave of branches above them.

A heavy lungful of breath was dragged out of him with a thud when the demon suddenly went flying to the side, forced off of him. Its claws dragged as it went, leaving a nasty tear in his jacket and a bit of blood behind.

McCree panted raggedly as he heard the struggle next to him. Hanzo had arrived and lunged in, a natural predator. Unlike Mccree’s exchange with the charging demon, this one was silent and over fast. Hanzo’s horns were out, and he used them to bat away the challenger’s claws from his face as he dove for its throat, clawed fingers pressing into the soft flesh under its jaw. McCree heard it gurgling, saw spit foaming at the corners of its flushed mouth. Hanzo’s eyes gleamed, slitted pupils reflective in the silver light of the moon.

No grin split his face as he worked, but there was no look of disgust, either. Just a pure, cold, businesslike demeanor. McCree struggled to his feet, pulling at his pack. He had another thing in here somewhere-- aha!

He quickly pulled Hanzo off the demon on the ground, using his own momentum to force him aside. Truthfully, he knew the only reason he was able to even move him was because Hanzo hadn’t been expecting it, but McCree would take what he could get.

He quickly hauled up the demon by its now-skinny shoulders and slammed it against the nearest tree. He took the hunk of rock salt packaged up in herbs out of his pocket and shoved it in the thing’s snarling mouth.

It coughed violently, then lurched away, crashing into the dark woods. McCree let it go, stepping back a few paces as he watched it loudly stumble away into the dark.

Hanzo made to chase it, clearly livid. It took all McCree’s strength-- and his whole body wrapped around Hanzo’s-- to keep him from pursuing.

“ _Let it go,_ ” He wheezed. “We can find it in daylight. It won’t be able to run far now, not with that sachet in it.”

They listened for long minutes as the demon charged through the forest, far away from Hanzo’s land. Finally, when all was silent, McCree let out a deep breath.

He became aware of the fact that he was still wrapped around Hanzo’s body. The demon didn’t seem to mind, absently stroking McCree’s back possessively as he stared fixedly over his shoulder in the direction the intruder had fled. He looked like a hunting dog still perked up, ready to bite-- in fact, his teeth were still out and decidedly longer than usual, and a subverbal growl could be felt rumbling through his chest where McCree was pressed against his shorter body. McCree stared as his eyes gradually changed shape and color, returning to a more sedate chestnut hue.

He was still hopelessly turned on, with no outlet for it, and Hanzo wasn’t helping. But he could deal with that later.

McCree loudly cleared his throat, and Hanzo let him go. Frost was setting in, and McCree was still bleeding and sticky from the creature’s saliva. The arm it had gotten its mouth on was swollen and bruised, scratched up a bit but mostly just covered in what almost looked like burns. His coat had some holes in it, and his pack was on the ground, contents strewn around it.

He dug through the leaves and eventually found his gun; then he made to clean up and gather his work kit off the ground. Hanzo simply watched him, slowly coming out of his more animalistic state. The horns were the last thing to go, slowly retreating into his skull until they were little more than raised bumps on his forehead-- and then they were gone, leaving only silky hair that was somehow still neat despite the scuffle.

They went back to Hanzo’s house. Hanzo was alert the whole time, eyes darting from tree to tree in case the attacker returned. McCree kept his gun out in one hand, ready to fight. The woods were still eerily silent, and they tread carefully over the damp leaf litter and sodden logs.

McCree let out a sigh of relief when the warm lights of Hanzo’s house could be seen in the distance.

“Home, sweet home,” he muttered, limping to the door. Hanzo was quiet at his side, only responding with a quick glance at McCree’s words. When they got inside McCree roughly kicked off his shoes and dropped his bloodied coat on the floor, figuring Hanzo wouldn’t want it on his couch this time around. As he dropped his heavy pack, he winced-- his shoulder was tender, too, probably from the brawl.

Hanzo headed, predictably, back to his kitchen to throw some water on to boil.

“Bathroom?” McCree grunted as he rolled his sleeves up to inspect the damage. Hanzo nodded towards what was probably his bedroom-- right on the money, McCree found, when he passed a sizable bed on into a neat little bathroom.

McCree let the tap run hot as he shed his outer layers. Off came the flannel, then the t-shirt. His jeans were a muddy mess; they had to go. The only parts of his outfit that hadn’t been messed to hell were his underwear and his socks, and those weren’t in such great shape to begin with.

He started to scrub at his wounds with his bare hands. There was a bar of soap off to the side, and he gratefully lathered up. The bar soon turned a dirty, rusty brown as mud and blood and other filth was sloughed away into the water.

He was carefully splashing water on the scratches on his face when he heard a quiet knock at the door. Hanzo was standing in the open door frame holding a couple towels, staring ruefully at McCree’s battered body.

McCree felt, briefly, like he should be embarrassed; but they’d already been far more intimate than this, and if he couldn’t shed modesty in the face of blood, when _could_ he do it? He gratefully accepted the towels, patting at a shallow slice across his cheek. He thought about apologizing for the mess, but it would have been pointless.

Hanzo continued to stare. His hands hovered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. McCree gestured, silently asking if he wanted the towel back. Hanzo took it, but instead of folding up the dirty cloth and taking it away, he started to wrap it around McCree’s arm and gently clean him, wiping away soap and scum in one soft swipe. He dipped carefully around each finger, across his wrist, over the sensitive flesh of his inner arm.

McCree was mesmerized by the gentleness with which Hanzo worked. The room was warming up now, steam from the full sink making the atmosphere cling to McCree’s bare skin. He was still resoundingly aroused, a hot core of excitement bubbling in his gut. It burned insistently while he stood there in Hanzo’s tiny bathroom, swaying on his feet in exhaustion while he let himself be cleaned.

He thought about what Marie had said about biting-- and decided not to bring it up. He remembered the possessive hand on his back after the other demon had mauled him-- and decided not to linger on it. Instead, he focused only on Hanzo’s deft fingers wiping away blood from his skin.

“...ould help.”

“Sorry, what?”

Hanzo’s eyes flicked up briefly.

“I could help.” He swallowed nervously. “With that. If you wanted me to.”

“You got a first aid kit?”

Hanzo snorted. “Don’t be obtuse. It’s unbecoming.”

McCree winced. “Sorry. I mean. You don’t have to, darlin’, I get it.”

Hanzo tilted his head. “Why would I _not_ want to? I can understand _you_ being wary, but…”

“Well...wouldn’t it be kind of weird for you? Sloppy seconds or something.”

Hanzo’s eyes briefly flashed, and McCree could have sworn he saw a peek of a canine when Hanzo grimaced and gripped his wrist firmly.

“ _I_ had first claim, and that thing has been muddying what is _mine_.”

McCree ducked his head, face heating up. He was suddenly a mix of embarrassed and angry. “Yours, huh? Like Marie? Just another meal.”

Hanzo looked hurt. “Marie is a friend. I get a meal, and her chronic pain is reduced. It’s completely platonic.”

“But she’s still yours, right? So what does that make me?”

Hanzo paused. His hand was still tight on McCree’s wrist. He looked down and saw that the bruises from the other demon were still blooming deep greens and browns on his tawny skin.

“It makes you...interesting.” He smiled toothily. “Worth helping. Delectable.”

McCree so badly wanted to fold.

Hanzo held up McCree’s arm, chastely kissing a bruise at the narrow bridge of his wrist, over his pulse point, making shy eye contact all the while. The bruise retreated back into McCree’s skin.

Hanzo paused. McCree could feel his soft lips brush against his skin as he spoke: “Is this okay?”

McCree’s face went brilliantly red. “I almost miss the demon that shoved me down on his couch last night; my heart sure took it better,” he sputtered.

 

“That demon isn’t starving beyond self-control right now and actually has some _manners_.”

Hanzo stepped into his space, kissed his way up McCree’s arm. He paused at the crease of his elbow, at the swell of his bicep. McCree’s breath became shallow and he was achingly aware of how exposed he was compared to Hanzo, who was, once again, somehow fully dressed despite McCree’s relative nudity. Hanzo’s free hand came up to cup his chin and twisted it to the side, exposing the scratch on McCree’s cheek.

He seemed to consider before licking his thumb and rubbing it into the wound, smirking when McCree grimaced and let out an “Oh, _hell,_ that is _gross_.” But the wound healed, and his face tingled warmly where Hanzo had touched it.

“You will let me eat your ass, but I cannot rub a little spit on your face?”

McCree made a face. “Darlin’, that is about the most disturbing set of words I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” He paused. “I think I like it.”

Hanzo grinned. Tension broken, McCree allowed Hanzo to lean into his space, crowding him against the porcelain counter. A cabinet handle dug into his backside, so he hitched himself up on the countertop and pulled Hanzo towards him, finally closing the gap between them. Their lips met in a soft kiss as one of Hanzo’s hands crept up McCree’s hairy thigh.

McCree ever so carefully kissed Hanzo, and slowly the kisses became more open-mouthed, more aggressive. Every lick against his tongue added to the embers in his gut, stoking them into a steady fire. He made a needy noise when Hanzo gently bit his lip and slid the hand on his thigh up to cup the bulge of his groin. His cock was filling now, firm against his hip, and he was dizzy in the best of ways.

Even when he groaned in protest, Hanzo refused to rush, taking a maddeningly long time to touch McCree where he needed it. It was the total opposite of the night before, with the exception being that McCree was still out of his damn mind with need.

“Could you just--” McCree cut himself off with a groan when Hanzo cupped his balls over his underwear and squeezed. “Stop _teasing_ me, honey.”

Hanzo cocked his head in a way that McCree was starting to learn meant he was trying to be coy. “I’m doing nothing of the sort.” He dipped in to peck a kiss on McCree’s lips. “I’m just here to help.”

Hanzo leaned in on his tiptoes to mouth at McCree’s shoulder. He licked a line of fire over the crest of it, chasing a trail of gold, and McCree moaned gratefully as he felt the bruises recede. He dragged his arms around Hanzo’s waist, pushing at his clothes.

“How do you always manage to keep your dang clothes on?” he muttered, pushing his hands under Hanzo’s pants. Yep, still a good ass. Felt even better than it looked.

“How do _you_ always manage to get your clothes _off_?” Hanzo countered.

“It’s a talent.” McCree stuttered a breathy laugh as Hanzo rubbed the tip of his dick through his boxers in slow circles, playing with the forming wet spot under the head. It was starting to peek out over the waistband, fat and lazy, and Hanzo seemed to enjoy torturing McCree.

McCree kissed Hanzo again, shuddering when a heavy current of lust ran through him when Hanzo petted McCree’s tongue with his own. With no leverage, McCree settled for grabbing a meaty handful of Hanzo’s ample ass, dragging the demon closer to grind against him. When he opened his eyes, McCree caught a glimpse of Hanzo’s luminous irises, hazy with desire.

He couldn’t stand being the only one getting some attention; it seemed impolite, if anything, and McCree was nothing if not a gentleman. Plus, you know, awesome triathlete demon body. There was that.

McCree started to fumble with Hanzo’s pants, grateful that he seemed to have an affinity for comfortable exercise attire.

He hissed and flinched when Hanzo grabbed his wrist, and as if suddenly remembering his initial offer, Hanzo backed off.

McCree smirked-- the effect lessened by his inconsistent breath and mussed hair. “Gettin’ shy on me?”

Hanzo looked at him, eager eyes shining gold. “Just considering.” He licked a long stripe up McCree’s arm, sharp teeth grazing along as he did so, and McCree hunched as a shiver ran down his back. “You know,” he said, between small kisses to McCree’s wrist, “it’s not just our saliva that affects humans. Our other bodily fluids have their own properties.”

“What, like piss?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “You are an incorrigible smartass. Let me at least _try_ to be alluring.”

“You’re the one talking about magic pee, bucko.”

Hanzo stood up, feigning resignation. “That’s it, I’m done. You’ve ruined this. The mood is gone.”

McCree laughed and tugged him back in by the hips. “Aw, don’t be like that. Let me have a taste of that sugar at least.” He dipped forward to kiss Hanzo’s throat and was gratified when Hanzo chuckled and then all but purred when McCree sucked on the small space behind one endearingly pink ear.

He wrapped his hand in Hanzo’s hair and was rewarded with a laughing moan-- and a small, slightly unsettling shift of bone under his skin. McCree watched in fascination as small bump of horn started to emerge. He experimented with scratching lightly at Hanzo’s scalp, increasing the pressure when Hanzo rutted forward into his lap.

“What does it feel like?” he asked, fascinated. “When they come out?”

“Like relaxing a cramped muscle after days of keeping it tight. Like finding an extra pocket of air in your lungs.” Hanzo sighed, rubbing against McCree’s questing fingers. “Like the world’s best afterglow.”

McCree was starting to feel pretty healed up by now, bruises fading, shoulders relaxing. He had a little more energy, and Hanzo’s touch left him warm and giddy. Boldly grabbing Hanzo’s horns, McCree tugged Hanzo forward and met him with a dirty, open kiss while he wrapped his legs around Hanzo’s waist. The fucker was still fully dressed. He could fix that.

McCree shoved Hanzo’s shirt up, taking delight in the play of steam over his taut muscles. He was sure some of it was probably natural build, but the long runs definitely weren’t hurting his physique. He had plump, perky pecs, and McCree happily set about massaging them and digging into the muscles while Hanzo struggled to take his shirt off over his horns.

He had a good seat on the counter, and McCree took advantage of it, spreading his legs wide and scooting to the edge of the ledge to get more room to maneuver. Hanzo’s pants were tented, and now that McCree was more cognizant of the situation, he was more than eager to get his hands on the prize. He had room to work here, as Hanzo was still tangled with his shirt.

“Just dial it back a bit, hon,” he teased as he bit at a nipple and pulled open Hanzo’s pants. Hanzo was acting unusually clumsy for a minor sex demon-- maybe it was the “minor” part tripping him up?-- but McCree enjoyed it. Last night had been intense, but a blur, and stressful besides. He was still seeing some of the mist over his skin, but it was light, barely there. Hanzo’s touch was hot, but it didn’t scald, and when he finally got Hanzo’s cock out into the open air, he was pleasantly surprised.

Hanzo’s head popped out of his shirt, hair haloed by flyaways. His face was ruddy and he seemed embarrassed by McCree’s open fascination.

“What is it you Americans say? ‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer’?”

“Could I?” McCree blurted out. “Later? Another time. For...research. Updating the demonomicon or some shit, I don’t know, I just want a chance to that save that beauty for later. Holy fuck, Hanzo, you just walk around with this all day?”

“Most of the time, yes,” Hanzo said, amused. “Though not usually so interested in my daily affairs.” He chucked his shirt aside and leaned in for another kiss.

McCree was startled by the sheer oddity of Hanzo’s dick. He’d gotten some sense of it yesterday, but looking directly at it was weird. The head of it was thick, and the base of it was firmer than normal, almost...hard? Like cartilaginous tissue was encasing the root of it. He still had balls, though, and they hung heavy and deliciously full below, tempting McCree. He cupped them, thumbing at one of the weird bumpy ridges that ran along the underside of Hanzo’s cock, and Hanzo’s breath stuttered a little.

“Feels good?” McCree had just enough height on Hanzo to kiss at the base of one horn. The skin there was thin and flushed a delicate pink, and Hanzo made a small, needy noise when McCree darted his tongue out to run along it.

“Which one of us is the demon?” Hanzo wondered aloud, carding his hands through McCree’s hair.

McCree leaned back, shoulder brushing the cool glass of the mirror behind him.“Why don’t you show me, hot stuff?”

Hanzo didn’t need to be told twice. He furiously ground into McCree’s thigh, rubbing a thin spread of precome on his skin as he leaned in for another kiss. McCree’s face flushed hot, and he was startled by another quick wave of want when he ran a finger through the slick left behind on his leg. All he needed was skin contact, huh? He wondered just how far the effects would spread.

The meddling scientist in him wanted to bottle the moment-- every detail, every scrap of evidence could be something worth investigating in the long run. Human and demon relations were typically in a shambles, what with most demons actively causing harm to the human community and most humans actively banishing escaped demons back to where they came from. But Hanzo seemed like an alright guy. Damned fascinating, at least. If the hunter council was willing to accept his petition, he must’ve had something going for him.

Hanzo ran the tip of his finger up the underside of McCree’s cloth-covered cock, nail lightly jumping over the ridge of each barbell. McCree had to force himself to breathe when Hanzo left a sticky trail of fluid behind on his leg and then deliberately scraped it off to rub into McCree’s cock-- making him more sensitive than ever.

“Shit, get these off me.” He wiggled, trying to get his boxers off and succeeding only in jostling against Hanzo’s body in the process. With help, he was completely nude and seated once again on the now-warming porcelain countertop.

He plastered himself to Hanzo, getting as much skin contact as he could. Hanzo grabbed their cocks in his hand and started to quickly jerk them off. The hard swathe of skin and bumps on Hanzo’s dick played against McCree’s piercings and made a pleasant-- if entirely foreign-- sensation.

“ _Shit_ ,” McCree hissed. “No fucking wonder the council wouldn’t tell me who hired me. I’m liable to never leave your goddamn sight, darlin’.”

Hanzo chuckled and wrapped his free arm around McCree’s back, pulling his weight forward. McCree still towered over Hanzo, even seated, but when the demon gradually pulled him off the counter, he went with it, gripping Hanzo with his strong thighs and holding on.

“I’m not fucking you in my bloodied bathroom,” Hanzo said derisively. “I’ll do a lot of things, but I do have standards.”

McCree barely spared a glance for the dirty lather coating the sink and his muddy jeans in a pile. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

Hanzo smirked. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know where you’re from, but my kin tend to like a little dirt.”

“Oh, spare me.” Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I’m from Japan, not the moon. Humans are so dramatic. You always think you are so special and depraved for wanting what every other animal on the planet wants.” He started to carry McCree out to his small bedroom. Despite his better judgement, McCree was impressed by Hanzo’s strength.

It was a nice bedroom, but McCree was more focused on the blazing hot expanse of skin under his limbs than the decor. They rolled onto Hanzo’s bed, and Hanzo made a quick grab for a bottle of lube on the bedside table.

“No magic spit this time?”

“I save that for men who don’t talk about ‘magic piss’ when I’m trying to fuck them.”

McCree groaned, deciding to ignore the jab and opt for rubbing himself against every inch of Hanzo he could reach instead. His cock was heavy and red, leaking a little against his abdomen.

“Hold still,” Hanzo demanded, digging a delicately clawed finger into his hip.

McCree loosened his limbs, displaying himself prone on the bed. Hanzo’s hands valiantly stayed clear of his asshole, for which McCree was grateful. The demon seemed to be starting to have some control issues: his eyes were a wicked gilt, pupils slitted and sharp, and his panting breath was huffed past keen teeth. All of this was decidedly arousing, but dangerously so, and McCree was happy enough to let the sharp bits stay on his outsides.

Instead, Hanzo slicked up his cock and started to insistently rub it along his crack, the thick head dragging against his hairy taint. McCree rocked against it, reaching down to jerk himself off. The flushed head of his cock peeked out of his foreskin, and he lovingly rolled it back, watching a thick pearl of precome bead at the tip. Hanzo’s long tongue slid out like he wanted a taste, but McCree just tapped at the drip, drawing a long string of it away and rubbing his fingers in it for Hanzo to watch.

“You are too much,” Hanzo huffed, snuffling against McCree’s neck. “Absolutely _filthy_.”

McCree only made a strangled grunt of agreement, toes curling when the bumps on Hanzo’s cock jumped against his balls, dragging against the soft skin of his sack. He was warming everywhere, sparks lit against his skin when Hanzo worked his way into all the little creases of his personal space.

Hanzo wrapped a hot hand around McCree’s cock and gripped him hard, forcing McCree to fuck up into the almost painfully-tight vice of his fist if he wanted any friction. Meanwhile, he started to slowly but forcefully grind against his slippery asscheeks, rubbing aginst McCree’s swollen asshole and nudging his balls with every thrust.

Something in the pit of McCree’s stomach started to wind up tight, blooming at his core. Hanzo’s hands were relentless-- one on his cock, the other wandering over his torso pinching here, rubbing there. He was sure, _so_ sure that he was about to come, and he started to say it, started to abandon control, only to have Hanzo immediately let go just as he was about to tip over the edge.

McCree groaned, almost _howled_ with frustration. “Just a little, darlin’, _c’mon--_ ”

Hanzo laughed, sucked along his collarbones. McCree felt a little pull as Hanzo fed off him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that wisps of golden mist would be winding their way across his skin, goosebumps in their wake as Hanzo lapped up what he could.

“You’re a cruel sonovabitch, you know that, fuckhead--!” He yelped as Hanzo grabbed one cheek with a clawed hand and pulled it aside, stretching and exposing his ashhole. He was distantly aware of Hanzo furiously rutting against him, and then Hanzo was grunting and whining and spilling over him, splattering him with fat dribbles of come while McCree writhed below him, intent on his own end. McCree yanked at his dick, stripping it at a punishing pace while he soaked in the intense sensation of Hanzo’s come dripping down to the sheets. Shit, it didn’t even have that weird funk jizz usually did-- just something musky and _filthy_ about it that made McCree want to rub it into his skin to savor later.

Hanzo kept rutting leisurely against him, sliding through the mess he’d made-- then reared back and sunk his teeth into McCree’s shoulder. McCree shouted and flinched, rolling into Hanzo and somehow managing to get on top of him while the demon continued to bite and heal and eat. He rolled his hips against Hanzo’s softening cock, imagining letting the demon actually fuck him next time. _Next time._ There was a thought.

Hanzo reached up and meanly pinched a nipple just as he bit down one final time, and it was enough to send McCree right over the edge, twitcing as he came all over Hanzo’s stomach.

He dropped his head to the sheets, twitching when Hanzo continued to softly nibble along his shoulders and neck, licking up little remnants of energy until McCree shoved his face away, panting harshly.

“I think I’m all healed up, Hanners,” he said, barely managing to maintain a lighthearted tone. He jabbed his hand in the air, making a thumbs-up. “Good job, darlin’, nice save.”

He rolled off Hanzo, dropping down to the sweaty sheets next to him.

“Are you sure? Because I could--”

McCree shoved at his shoulders, cackling. “You fuckin’ _show off_ , damn. Let a man _live._ ”

After several long minutes spent catching their breath, Hanzo finally glanced over.

“In case you couldn’t tell, this is decidedly more physical than Marie and I have ever been.” He huffed and rolled over to knock his forehead against McCree’s shoulder. “Marie is not a meal, any more than you are. I don’t feed just for the sake of sustenance.”

“Okay, I guess.” McCree shrugged. He was vaguely irritated by the fact that a prickly thorn of jealousy had dislodged itself when Hanzo brought it up.

Hanzo continued to kiss along his bicep, up his shoulder. He gently, chastely kissed the remnants of the bites he’d left near McCree’s clavicle before relaxing into his side. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

McCree was suddenly exhausted. He almost started to nod off, but managed to nudge Hanzo’s hip.

“So.”

Hanzo grunted. “So?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

McCree groggily sat up, dislodging a sleepy Hanzo. “Coffee, demon slaying, pancakes? Or are pancakes too celebratory?”

“As long as we can get rid of them, I will celebrate any way you want.” Hanzo stood up, padding over to his bathroom. McCree heard him rustling around and then he came back holding a towel.

“And if you have to shoot him like Marie asked?”

Hanzo shrugged, tossing the towel to McCree, who started cleaning himself up. “Then I will shoot it. And then we’ll get pancakes.”

McCree sleepily watched him pull his clothes back on. Personally, he barely had enough energy to stay sitting up. He splayed himself out on Hanzo’s bed, stretching, and glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. Still early. He could probably make some notes and do a little more research before passing out, if he could just gather enough motivation to go find his phone.

\--

“Here.” McCree blinked heavily. Hanzo was suddenly right in front of him, holding a steaming mug. Had he dozed off?

“Coffee?”

“I...thought you might not want to sleep so soon. I am sorry about that.”

McCree scrubbed at his face. “Is it always that exhausting?” He sipped his drink, perking up a bit.

Hanzo looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes. Marie usually just takes a nap after I eat.”

“Huh. Alright. I should probably write that down somewhere.”

After a few minutes of shifting around on Hanzo’s bed, McCree realized that all his work things were out in the living room with his bag.

He looked around before shrugging and grabbing the blanket and shuffling out into the main room of the cabin, Hanzo trailing behind. His bag was still on the floor by the door.

Boy, was he tired. He almost teetered over leaning down to grab his stuff. He settled for retreating back to Hanzo’s bedroom, wrapping himself up tightly in Hanzo’s blanket while he tapped away at his phone, adding photos and notes to the hunt file on the forums.

It wasn’t until Hanzo woke him again to nudge him over on the mattress that he realized he’d fallen asleep.

There would be plenty of work to do in the morning. He was sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow my NSFW/writing blog at hhgggx.tumblr.com. Sometimes I post snippets of what I'm working on or other clues. Sometimes even a poll about what to work on next!


	3. Chapter 3

McCree woke up feeling oddly comfortable. As far as he could recall, this was the first time in weeks that he wasn’t in a hotel bed, a couch, a hostel, or a tent.

He was somewhere warm and soft and he wasn’t alone.

This was the second morning he’d woken in Hanzo’s house. Yesterday it had been while plastered to the deep crevices of Hanzo’s couch; today he was tightly swaddled in a blanket on Hanzo’s bed, and the demon was curled around him, another blanket over the both of them. McCree was sweating, too hot for all the covers, and he worked his way out of them while trying not to disturb Hanzo’s rest.

Hanzo stirred, grumbling slightly. McCree watched him smack his lips and scratch at where a horn would be if it was out. He was not a delicate man: too much muscle, too much teeth. Watching him sleep would have been funny, normally.

McCree glanced at his phone. It was already well past 8 in the morning-- later than he usually slept. He was surprised that Hanzo would have slept that long.

When he wandered out into the living room, he saw that he was mistaken. Apparently Hanzo had gotten up early enough to make breakfast and then crawl back in bed.

All this demon feeding was getting to be exhausting, but at least there were pancakes.

McCree ducked his head back in the bedroom.

“You made me breakfast?” He asked. Hanzo stepped out of the bathroom. Steam and the smell of mint wafted with him.

“I thought celebratory breakfast might end up being a little late, considering our schedule for the day. So I went ahead and made regular breakfast.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you!” McCree smiled around a mouthful of food. “Good stuff, too.”

Hanzo smiled softly. “You should eat. We have places to be.”

McCree hesitated. “You don’t need to, ah, eat?”

Catching his meaning, Hanzo laughed awkwardly. “Not constantly. Normally I can go a few days without feeding, but the last few nights have been...draining. I know it’s been taxing for you. I’d say I’d go to my usual companions, but they seem to have become shy since this intruder showed up.”

“So it’s not a constant thing, then?”

“No...the energy feedings are to sustain ‘humanity,’ so to speak, and I generally have a good grip on that on my own.” He stalked over and plucked a strip of bacon off McCree’s plate. “Breakfast, though…. _that_ I enjoy.”

“Hm.” McCree stood in the kitchen with his plate, scarfing down food while Hanzo poured himself a mug of tea. “So,” he started around a mouthful of eggs, “What first? The thing can’t have gone far.”

“I’d like to visit another one of the victims. He encountered it when it was hungrier and may have more information about it. Satya has not gotten back to me yet and I would loathe to fight without any context.”

McCree slurped at the mug of tea Hanzo had set aside for him. “Satya’s the lamia? Is there a club for y’all, or what?”

“A club?”

“The benign supernatural club. Not that long ago I wouldn’t’ve trusted a sex demon much further than I could throw ‘em. And I don’t have a hell of a lot of upper body strength going for me. No offense.”

“None taken. We have our ups and downs. It’s the middle-aged ones that seem to settle. Extreme age and youth seem to make one foolish.” He drained his mug and set it in the sink. “In between those two it’s possible to coexist.”

McCree hummed in agreement. He’d have to weasel some more information about that out of him later. Maybe even out of someone else, if Hanzo was willing to share contact info.

“Well,” Hanzo said, pushing off the counter and grabbing his coat, “let’s go. We can talk to my acquaintance first and see what he knows.”

“Another ‘acquaintance,’ huh,” McCree muttered. Maybe it’d be like Marie again-- chronic pain alleviation.

\--

It wasn’t like Marie. Marcus was a young man-- younger than McCree by far-- in his early twenties that was sporting a few bruises and a wild set of facial piercings when Hanzo and McCree showed up at his apartment.

He glanced at Hanzo. Well, at least he knew what he was into now.

“Hanzo!” The guy grinned up at Hanzo when he answered the door. He was short, too. An honest-to-god twink. Holy shit. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk, Marcus. Do you have time?”

The kid looked around before ushering them into his small apartment. It was sparse, but there was a small couch and a wobbly chair. He steered McCree and Hanzo towards them. “Yeah. Yeah, just gimme a minute. Everything okay? You haven’t been around much.”

“You...didn’t seem to want to talk last time.”

Marcus frowned. “Well, yeah. All things considered, I wasn’t exactly looking for attention from another feeder at the moment.” He brightened. “But we’re friends, dude! You could have called.

Hanzo looked uncomfortable. “I am sorry. I, didn’t…”

Marcus waved his stuttering away. “It’s all good, my man. I’m back to fighting fit now.” He threw several unabashedly curious glances at McCree. “Who are you?”

“Jesse McCree. Demon hunter-- supernatural law enforcement, I guess.” McCree moved to shake his hand. The kid turned it into an half-bump instead, and McCree drew his hand away awkwardly.

“No one’s in trouble, are they?”

“‘No one ‘cept the fucker that’s been attacking folks, no.” McCree tapped out a smoke. “You mind?” Marcus shook his head and nudged an ashtray closer, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Hanzo said you might be able to help us. The thing got you?”

“Yeah, a couple weeks back. Scared the shit out of me. I had to miss a final because of it and now my GPA’s all fucked up.”

“Marcus is studying at a nearby university,” Hanzo interjected.

Marcus snorted. “Yeah, and it’s doing me so much fucking good when I can’t even finish a class because my dumb ass nearly got fucked to death. How am I supposed to explain that to a professor?”

“Medical exhaustion?” McCree suggested cheekily.

Marcus laughed loudly. “Nice. Hanzo, I like him.”

“Anyway, partner, tell me a bit about the whole thing. What got you all banged up, so to speak?”

“The hottest goddamn monster I have ever had the pleasure of tangoing with,” Marcus spat back. “Ruined some good sheets and probably my spleen, I dunno.”

“Can you tell us what it looked like?”

Marcus shrugged and curled up on the couch. “Dunno, dude. It kept like...changing? Not drastically but enough that it was hard to get a grip on it. Couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman half the time and I didn’t bother asking. Thought it might be rude so I just...went with it. And shit, they were hot. And _into me_ , that’s the thing. That _never_ happens.” He scratched idly at his face. “I took them home, and we had a good time, until it started getting weird?”

McCree and Hanzo looked at each other. “Weird how?” McCree asked.

“Like...not to knock you, Hanzo, you know what you’re doing...but this thing was nuts. Did everything I couldn’t ask for and then some, and it drove me wild the whole time. I’m pretty sure it had some nasty teeth and horns and stuff, which didn’t get me as weirded out as it should have, but, well--” he waved dismissively-- “I’ve seen you. And that wasn’t so bad.”

Hanzo scooted to the edge of his seat. “Did it hurt you? I know you ended up in the hospital, Marcus.”

Marcus rubbed his neck in an embarrassed gesture, scattering ash on the couch as he did so. McCree didn’t miss Hanzo’s grimace. “Ah, yeah, that’s the fucked-up part. It ate and ate and ate, and I was, like, _so_ into it, but then I kind of...passed out? I’m pretty sure I just got dehydrated and shit, but wow. It got _wild_. They were fuckin’...talking to themself, and stuff?”

McCree’s interest was piqued. He held his phone close, but paused in his note-taking. “Talking?”

“Yeah, just, like, babbling. Praise, and asking if they were doing good, and stuff. It was freaking me out, but I tried to go with it? People are into all sorts of kinky shit these days.”

“Did it name anyone?” Hanzo asked.

“Nah, nothing like that. Just asked if it was “doing well, doing it right,” and all that. They wanted to  be told they were good. I dunno, I tried to get into it, but I don’t think they were really listening to me.”

McCree whistled. “Well, shit.” He glanced over at Hanzo. His brow was furrowed, a slight frown in place. “Looks like we might have a chain of command, Hanzo.”

“What do you think it could be? Who was it talking to?”

“I dunno, dude, but it was freaky as hell. And they just fucking vanished, too, like right after. Left me lying on the floor, dick out and everything. My roommate found me and nearly shit his pants, I swear to god."

McCree wanted to roll his eyes a little bit-- just a little. He might have been feeling petty.

“What, kid, did you scar him with your junk?”

“No, dude.” Marcus started to look panicked, his eyes flitting back and forth. “There was like...fur everywhere. He said it looked like I’d tried to fight a raccoon and lost.” He pointed to a bruise on his face, then quickly turned around over and tugged his shirt up over his back, revealing several rows of scratches. “But I swear to god the thing I had sex with didn’t do that. It was like there was something else with us.” He put his shirt back down and turned to Hanzo. “It’s totally put me off like any bars or campus events or anything, seriously. Like, we’re cool to hang if you’re into it--I think there’s gonna be a river swim soon-- but I absolutely _cannot_ feed you anymore, Hanzo.”

Hanzo looked a little disappointed, but not surprised. “I see.”

“No offense, seriously-- I’m just like...I’m out. I can’t.”

“I understand, truly.” Hanzo started to look uncomfortable.

McCree took his cue. He slapped his hands down on his knees and stood, stubbing out the tiny remains of his cigarillo in the ashtray on the table.

“Well, kiddo, I think it’s best we get going. Got a sexy beast to track and all.”

Marcus laughed, looking relieved. “Good fucking luck, my man. Seriously.” He turned to Hanzo. “Tell me all about it another time, yeah?”

Hanzo nodded, gathering his coat and heading for the door. “I will.” He turned back, clasping a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. McCree bristled a little bit. “Take care of yourself.”

They paused on the landing outside his apartment. McCree took a moment to zip up his jacket against the winter chill. Their breath puffed solidly into the morning air, blending in with the gray sky. It looked like they were in for some snow.

“Well,” McCree said, shrugging. “It’s something.”

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed. “It’s not working alone, we can confirm that much. The problem now is where it’s hiding.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “You got any ideas?” He started walking back to the main road. The streets were hilly and lined with dead leaves, and they sat wetly in the gutter as he and Hanzo strode towards the center of town.

“Well…” Hanzo started, pausing. At his continued silence, McCree nudged him with his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Hanzo hesitated. “There are a lot of nooks and divots in the cliffs around here. The public parks in particular are riddled with caves. It’s a fairly popular tourist attraction. They do guided walks in the summertime.”

McCree hummed, considering.

“Guess we start there, then.”

\--

Things went much slower after that-- aggravatingly, soul-destroyingly frustrating lulls that lasted long hours. After three days of intense fighting and fucking and investigating, McCree had expected that a reprieve would be welcome. Instead, all it did was set him on edge. He’d already spent two weeks in town before meeting Hanzo, and he’d spent most of it wandering around without half a clue about where to start. Now that he had leads, he was eager to get a move on and finish the job.

Hanzo fed a few times in the interim-- light snacks, McCree joked. It basically amounted to them necking like teenagers on Hanzo’s couch while Hanzo licked and sucked up energy that curled off McCree’s skin. It always left McCree tired, but not eye-crossingly exhausted like that first night. He’d just lie down for a bit afterwards, browsing the net and looking at potential jobs to follow this one. There was a promising lead nearby-- potentially some werewolves causing a ruckus in the next town over.

Now that he was aware of Hanzo and often traveling with him, things around town started to make more sense. Hanzo was seemingly involved in everything around town-- fun run events, friends and neighbors. A matronly woman at a bakery passed him a box of cookies to give to Marie, and they visited her at her home to drop them off.

Marie didn’t have much of anything else to tell them, but she conscripted Hanzo and McCree into fixing her door, which had been hanging just this side of crooked since the break-in.

Basically, they idled. McCree was starting to get antsy.

\--

A bit of his anticipation was quelled by watching Hanzo practice. The demon had a number of things to occupy his days once they were done with their excursions. He went on runs (which McCree tried to join in on, and failed) and fast bike rides and gardened and cleaned, all while McCree lounged around in his living room napping or researching.

But hell, if McCree was interested in his hobbies, he was _mesmerized_ by Hanzo’s weapon training.

Hanzo was an archer, and a damn special one at that. His bow was a fancy piece of artistry-- technology and ancient functionality put together to make something truly unique. The muscles of Hanzo’s broad back bunched together beautifully when he drew back the bowstring, but when he released it, it was like all the tension of his body flew away with the arrow. The fletching was something synthetic that forced them to fly straight, but the arrows themselves were, as Hanzo informed McCree, a special product: cedar grown around the border between planes of existence.

They’d been standing in Hanzo’s kitchen preparing lunch when McCree had brought up the demon’s comment about it’s spawn circle.

“Hell is a dubious place,” Hanzo had explained. “It’s not so much a place souls go as a place from which souls are born; I was born there, but I live on this plane, as I have a physical body for my soul to inhabit.” He jostled a pan and stirred its contents. “When I eventually die, I will return there until my soul is worn out beyond its use; after that, who knows?”

McCree had sipped his drink and raised an eyebrow, sure he’d have to write all this shit down somewhere eventually. “So even demons don’t know about the afterlife?”

Hanzo snorted. “We know about the afterlife; souls go from whence they came. What comes after the afterlife is more of a mystery.”

Which, well...okay. He had a point. With every bit of supernatural energy McCree had encountered so far, no one religion or culture seemed to have a clear grasp on what happened between or after life and death.

And yet, Hell had roots in the ground; spiritual roots, ghostly roots-- roots that grasped and tugged and stitched things together. Some of those roots were literal: certain trees grew on the edges of existence. It was one reason Hanzo was so at home in the forest. He’d been born in a grove of cherry trees, his spawn circle littered with tiny pink flower petals. It was a weird mental image McCree tried not to think about too much, honestly.

Every kind of material had special properties, as McCree already knew. Heck, he kept mountain ash powder in his kit because it could be used as a barrier and because, in a pinch, it could clarify the mind against control or tricks. The inlay on his gun was elm for strength and intuition, for god’s sake.

He might be superstitious, but he wasn’t a fool.

Cedar was known in many religions and cultures to strengthen actions that had the intent of protection and cleansing. It didn’t have to be malicious, but Hanzo’s actions were usually in self-defense. McCree found it fascinating that Hanzo’s choice of weapon would come from something so deeply personal.

He found his practice sessions more fascinating still.

\--

When they weren’t sitting around waiting for returned messages from Hanzo’s friends around the globe, they explored the terrain around Hanzo’s property. The salt and sachet McCree had shoved in the thing’s mouth would have incapacitated it, and good riddance. In those few days of searching, no new victims were found. Part of McCree was relieved. The other part of him wondered what would happen when the hard rock salt eventually dissolved and let the thing back into the company of civilians.

It had to happen sooner or later. Unfortunately, McCree was betting on sooner.

\--

The local national forest and parks were full of little caves and coves. There were a couple streams that ran through it, and they were icy now, frozen over by winter weather.

 

“You sure this is it?” McCree asked, panting as they crested yet another hill. The ground was covered in dead leaves and a light frost, and he’d slipped and stumbled all the way up.

“Yes, this has to be it,” Hanzo confirmed. “This is the only cave system left.”

McCree stopped, guzzling water from a bottle he kept in his pack. Damn Hanzo and his trained stamina. McCree was a good shot, but his lungs were shit and he wasn’t much of a runner.

“I mean, it coulda been in one of the others. Or none of ‘em.”

Hanzo adjusted the quiver of deadly-sharp arrows on his back. If McCree didn’t know better, he’d call it a fidget.

“It has to be this one,” Hanzo said decisively.

“I sure as hell hope so.” McCree adjusted his hat, tugged his coat a little closer, and pulled his gun out of its holster on his hip. “Alright, let’s get this done.”

They crept over the top of the hillock, and McCree gasped quietly, suddenly eager to silence his thrashing through the undergrowth.

“Well, _shit_ ,” he whispered.

The narrow opening in the rocks in front of them was pitch black, but it wasn’t the cave itself that got his attention. Instead, it was the mass amount of garbage that littered the surrounding area. There was at least as much trash as there were dead plants: fast food wrappers, foil from candy bars, crushed styrofoam cups, and what appeared to be approximately a million chicken bones. It reeked, rancid and faintly oily, and McCree had to pull his scarf up over his nose to keep out the smell.

Hanzo wasn’t much better off. He wrinkled his nose, and McCree noticed that his eyes had gone gold, his sharp teeth bared in a disgusted grimace.

“Oh, yes,” Hanzo breathed. “This is it.”

They advanced on the cave carefully, weapons drawn. Hanzo kept one arrow in hand, and McCree kept his fingers steadily on the trigger, ready to draw at the slightest sign of danger.

They’d be blind going into the cave. Even Hanzo, who had better night vision, would be temporarily sightless during the transition in lighting. McCree flicked on a flashlight, which he clipped to his jacket. It wouldn’t do much, but it would give his human eyes an advantage for a few feet, at least.

The cave opening was barely big enough for a broad man to squeeze through, so Hanzo went first, bow raised and eyes alert. McCree followed behind him, cautiously creeping along the frosty rocks.

Though the opening was small, the cave itself was wide with a low ceiling. A scant amount of sunlight leaked in, illuminating more trash on the ground. McCree could hear a faint scrabbling nearby, and it caused the hair on the back of his neck to prickle and stand on end, his ears straining to make out more detail.

Hanzo signaled to him without turning to look at him: _To the left_. They’d be seen by now by anyone keeping watch, but silence couldn’t hurt. McCree carefully tagged behind him, gun up.

As they walked further into the cave, the air became warm and damp. A faint dripping could be heard in the distance. It was eerie and uneven. The further they walked, the louder McCree’s heartbeat seemed to thud in his chest. By the time they reached a bend in the path, McCree was sure he would lose his heart to the pebbled ground if he opened his mouth.

McCree heard skittering to his left and froze. Hanzo immediately turned and aimed into the darkness, releasing an arrow with a near-silent _thwap_. It bounced and skittered and finally clattered to a stop wedged sadly between two stalagmites. McCree was quick to aim his light towards the target.

Nothing.

Hanzo’s shoulder’s relaxed minutely, which is, of course, when the screams started.

They were ragged and sad, some mix of animal and human, and McCree’s immediate instinct was to make them stop by any means possible. He shot into the dark, aiming high, and the slight flash from his gun illuminated two black eyes and matted black hair, both rushing at them quickly. Between flashes of McCree’s jiggling light, the creature advanced quickly, lunging at them in the dark.

When it pounced on McCree, its hands were slick with grease, it’s teeth sharp. It seemed less inclined to rend, however, than to simply eat. McCree held it at arm’s length while it snarled and thrashed, long tongue lolling as it tried to feed off him. He thanked his luck that it was winter and he was all bundled up, because it bit ineffectively at his leather gloves and clawed at his coat. It had short horns that sprouted out the closer it got to him, stubby little things that would no good against Hanzo’s magnificent set.

Its wet breath misted even in the relatively warm air of the cave, and its eyes reflected hollowly at the bright beam of McCree’s light, like a raccoon in a storm. McCree struggled with it, kicking out at its shifting body as it tried to get closer to them. Pebbles rattle around them as they rolled, the demon grunting and snarling wildly.

McCree was suddenly left alone on the ground when the demon was yanked away from him. Hanzo had swung it by the hair and thrown it to the hard ground some feet away. McCree panted and rolled to his knees, gun up. His forehead was damp with sweat and his hat was missing, but he was otherwise unharmed.

“Stay where you are!” Hanzo barked. The creature dodged away from McCree’s light, dashing around the cave. Its travels were marked by echoing cracks as it dislodged rocks and debris in its path. They followed it deeper into the cave.

The demon cackled with a surprisingly shrill voice.

“I brought them!”

It laughed even as it tripped on sharp rocks, falling to the floor with a bloody gash in one knee. It shifted and writhed but finally settled on one shape, sitting still. Hanzo aimed at it from across the cave and released an arrow. McCree gaped as it splintered midair and set a ring of wood around the creature. When it tried to haul itself further into the cave it shrieked angrily and pulled its hand back as if burned.

“No!” it screamed. It thrashed, throwing itself against the edges of the ring around it, only succeeding in causing itself more pain. Hanzo stopped a few feet away from it, bow raised. McCree constantly swept his eyes around the cave, searching for whoever the demon was calling to.

McCree and Hanzo stilled as the thing continued to heave against the walls of its cage. It tired slowly. Each time it fought, a sharp blue _zak_ of light flashed in the cave, illuminating the miniscule, otherworldly changes that occurred to the demon’s physique each time it wounded itself. The horns had already been out by the time it attacked McCree, but now they revealed themself further: their eyes were wild and yellow, a cheap imitation of Hanzo’s fine coloring. Its arms were longer than should have been natural, its teeth a dirty brown that shone with thick saliva as its mouth gaped in a snarl.

Eventually it weakened itself and stayed huddled in the center, clutching its bony hands. McCree was reluctant to admit it any pity; it sure hadn’t showed him any kindnesses.

“Who are you?” Hanzo demanded.

“Ha!” It laughed at them. Its mouth opened unnaturally wide. “I’m just like you, of course.” It smiled at McCree. “ _He_ knows me.”

“Yes,” Hanzo growled, “and you know what my claws feel like at your throat. This will hurt much worse, I assure you. _Who are you?_ ”

“I’m just _hungry_!” It cowered in the center of the circle, shifting on its feet almost shamefacedly. “I came here-- I came here and this city is not so small, but you have it all to yourself. You’re _greedy_!”

Hanzo drew back his bowstring to its full strength. The muscles of his arms bulged with the effort it  took, but he was steady as he held it and aimed it at the creature’s throat.

“I will ask you one more time,” he said calmly. “Who are you? Why are you stealing what is mine?”

The demon in the center seemed to consider for a second before assuming a cowering stance.

“Please,” it almost whispered. Its eyes flitted wildly around the cave as it spoke. “I’m-- I just want to eat. The other food doesn’t do anything, and I-- I haven’t been here that long and-- _okay_!” it shrieked when Hanzo plucked one finger off his bowstring. “I’m-- I’m a minor demon and this is-- I haven’t been here that long and I can’t find anyone to teach me and I’m just-- I’m starving, please--”

Hanzo cautiously lowered his weapon. McCree, however, kept his raised as he stalked the limited span of his light source, eyes wandering and ears sharp as he tried to suss out what the thing had been talking to before they’d caught it.

There had to be something else going on here.

He pulled Hanzo aside, careful to keep one eye on the demon in its entrapment.

“Hanzo,” he started in a low tone. “Maybe it just needs help? A guide, or…?” He raised his eyebrows beseechingly. “Y’all do that apprenticeship thing, right?”

Hanzo shook his head. “It sounds like they’ve already got it, if poorly. We need to find out who is directing them. We will see after that. They have already been irreparably rude by poaching on my territory.” He frowned. “Beyond that, they have specifically targeted those close to me, and that reeks of something suspicious.”

They turned back to the demon. They were carefully approaching the spokes of the splintered arrow with part of their clothing wrapped around a hand, but they jerked it away when McCree and Hanzo faced them. The demon looked at them guiltily, nursing what looked like a nasty burn on their arm where it had grazed the power field around it on its first escape attempt.

“Alright,” McCree started, holding up a bag of ash. “I’m gonna remove the walls--” Hanzo scowled, but didn’t interrupt. “--and throw some of this on you. It’s gonna be a bit messy, kiddo, but it’s better than the other option.”

Hanzo stepped forward. “If you make any attempt to escape, I will shoot you before you can finish your step.”

McCree nodded. “That’s the other option.”

It stared at them blankly before responding. “What are you going to do?”

They looked at each other. McCree took a step forward and heard Hanzo’s bowstring creak behind him.

“We just want to talk. Best case scenario we make a truce and escort you out of town.”

“And the worst case?”

McCree idly waved his gun. “I think you know what that is.”

It huffed, though it still cowered in the middle of its trap. “...okay.”

McCree holstered his gun and cautiously moved forward. The cave around them was humid and unusually warm for the season, and the long shadows flickered as McCree’s light bounced over the rock walls. The demon’s eyes were deeply reflective, like a nocturnal animal. He resisted the urge to look back and see if Hanzo’s were the same.

“Okay, here we go.” With a “ _hup!_ ” McCree tugged a splinter of wood out of the ground, releasing the magic that created the barrier. In the same movement, he shook out a handful of ash and blew it at the demon, who seemed too surprised to do much but sit there and cough.

McCree dusted off his hands and drew his gun out again. He squatted down, eye level with the demon.

“Now,” he started, “Spill.”

The demon, covered in a fine gray dust, scrambled backwards so it was against a craggy wall. It patted itself down. It looked like it was straining to do something, twisting this way and that, its face screwed up with effort.

“What _is_ this?” It asked, a hint of panic in its voice. “I can’t-- I can’t _change_.”

“All you need to know is that it’s gonna dampen you for a bit. It’ll wash off later. Talk a little.”

“It’s-- I’m not-- I’ve only been here for a couple weeks and everything has gone _wrong_ ,” it wailed. McCree watched with detached interest as it tugged at its hair, curling in on its ash-covered body. It looked like it was about to start hyperventilating. “I was the best in my spawn circle, the best in my family, they expected me to continue being the best when I got here--”

“So?” McCree prompted. “Why are you pushing in on another demon’s territory?”

“Because he-- it’s not like he needs the whole town. I thought maybe if they were already used to one demon they could take another and-- and then she gave me an offer that seemed really good and--”

“She?” McCree raised an eyebrow, still serious.

“Yeah, the fuzzy one, she, uh-- she’s older, she knows the area, and-- and she said she was here first, so--”

“No one was here first,” Hanzo interjected. “I made sure of it. I would not have intruded on another’s territory. It’s rude.” He looked at the young demon pointedly.

“Well,” it said irritably, “that’s not what she said, and I trust her more than I trust you.”

“You have no reason to,” Hanzo pointed out. “We are on equal footing as far as how much you know us.”

“Well, I-- I…” It sputtered, swiping at the ash on its face, coughing lightly as a cloud of it puffed off its skin.

“Just tell us a little more, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you out of here,” McCree said kindly. “You seem alright. And there are plenty of ways to live well out there _without_ putting humans in the hospital.”

Hanzo had begun to lower his bow. Now, he walked forward, a look of concentration on his face.

“You have not had proper training-- not sufficient to allow you to live on your own on this plane yet. We can fix that.”

McCree jerked a thumb at Hanzo. “Yeah, this guy’s got connections. Real good ones. He can get you where you need to be.”

“Really?” The demon leaned forward, looking at them searchingly. It looked….hopeful.

McCree was still squatting, face-to-face with the demon. Hanzo towered above them both, his massive bow held in a relaxed stance.

McCree nodded. “Really.”

“Then I guess I can...I can go with you if you want to-- uh.” The demon looked around quickly. Their voices were echoing off the walls. “We should leave.” It sucked in a breath. “ _Now."_

McCree scrabbled up, pushing the demon in front of him and heading towards the opening of the cave. He grabbed its dusty arm and shoved it in front of him. Hanzo led the way, and they started to head back through the tunnels, the beam of McCree’s flashlight bouncing along the walls as they walked.

They were nearly at the entrance when things started to fall apart.

McCree could just see the light of the narrow cave opening when a sudden blaring noise began ringing shrilly throughout the cave. He would have thought it was an alarm, but it sounded suspiciously song-like. It was deafeningly loud and insistent.

Hanzo’s phone. He cursed.

The second McCree’s hands twitched instinctively to cover his ears, the demon wriggled out of his grip and launched itself at Hanzo’s back, digging its hands into his long hair and starting a free fall to the floor. It forced Hanzo down by the skull, and McCree flinched as he heard Hanzo scream in surprise and pain. The two demons hit the floor and rolled, and McCree grabbed his gun and aimed. The phone was still ringing, it’s shrill tones bouncing cacophonously off the rock walls of the cave as Hanzo struggled on the ground.

With the poor lighting, McCree couldn’t get a good shot. He could only watch in cool terror as the ash-covered figure dug blunt nails and teeth into Hanzo’s body. Hanzo had immediately dropped his bow and drawn out his sharp teeth and claws, horns beginning to protrude even as they wrestled. Blood began to fly and he ripped at the younger demon, growling and clawing.

“The truce is off!” Hanzo snarled, slashing at its face. “You are nothing more than a _parasite_.”

Even trapped in its nearly-human body, the young demon was strong and crafty. It didn’t fight fair-- it pulled hair, shoved Hanzo’s clothing into his face, and kicked wherever it could reach, screaming with rage the whole time. And while it was going on, the phone was still ringing loudly, warbling in high tones as they rolled.

God, but McCree wished he could get a clear shot.

The younger demon suddenly reared up and dug its blunt-- but hard-- teeth into Hanzo’s throat, looking for all the world like it wanted to tear out his jugular. Hanzo screamed and pried at its skull, but the smaller demon latched on, hands pushing at Hanzo’s chest to try and get some leverage on his skin.

Hanzo beat at the demon’s face, but the angle was awkward. He managed to brutally smash its face several times and send it reeling to the side, but it left a gash along his shoulder where its broken teeth had caught in Hanzo’s skin on the way out. It rolled along the floor, coming to a scrabbling stop in the dirt. It huffed, its face swollen and bloody but murderous intent still burning in its eyes.

McCree did the first thing he could think of: he grabbed Hanzo and hauled ass.

Hanzo struggled against him, but managed to clumsily pick up his weapon as they ran for the front of the cave.

“Shut your damn phone up!” McCree hissed. “It’s giving us away.”

“We are more than _away_ at this point, hunter!” Hanzo snarled. Their path was too bumpy to aim weapons properly, but Hanzo’s long teeth were still out, and his arms were unnaturally long at his sides, his claws deadly sharp. Hanzo yanked his wrist out of McCree’s grip and strode ahead of him to the bright opening of the cave.

McCree had just squeeze through the narrow opening when a heavy weight threw itself at him and knocked him forward. He stumbled into a slippery pile of trash and leaves, landing with a grunt on the ground. He took the momentum and rolled to the side just in time to see the young demon crash into the rocky soil next to him, eyes blazing with determination. It still had ash smeared across its face and body, leaving a terrifying, dirty shamble crouching in front of McCree with its teeth bared.

“She was right,” it snarled. “She said you would do this. Try to sympathize, to _own_ me.”

“We’re not--” McCree started.

“ _No_!” The demon interrupted. “I know what you’re doing. You’re a hunter. And _you_ ,” it turned to Hanzo, “are a _blood traitor_.”

Hanzo stiffened. His gold eyes widened and his shoulders hunched. His bow hung loosely at his side.

The demon chuckled. “Oh, yes, she told me all about you. You and your betrayal.” It slowly stood up, towering over where McCree was still prone on the ground, nursing his shoulder, which may have been sprained from the fall. “You think no one will know, but they--”

A deafening crack rang out  through the woods, and the demon fell, blood spurting from its shoulder. It screamed, and its ragged cries echoed through the woods. McCree watched animals flee-- rodents and a huge fox and even a deer-- as if death itself was after them. The crashing in the underbrush didn’t drown out the cries of the demon, though. It writhed, clutching its shoulder and kicking at whatever it could reach as it bled out.

McCree crawled to his feet, cradling his shoulder. It’d be a nasty bruise, at least. Maybe Hanzo could help.

“I don’t know about you,” McCree said, “but I don’t think I appreciate liars much. What else have you got for me, sweetheart?” He leaned over the demon’s twitching body, giving it a light nudge with his  boot. “You gotta have something in that empty lil head of yours. Maybe a name?”

The demon just whined, bucking up into the air as if trying to gain its footing, but it slipped in the wet leaves. The blood and ash on its body were combining to make a thick slurry on its skin, dyeing its clothes red and starting to pool around it.

“I don’t-- there’s nothing-- _no_!”

Which is when McCree shot it in the head. Bone and gore and hair burst away from its skull before its face could even hit the ground.

He wiped his hands on his pants. They’d need some bleach, at least. Maybe a good bonfire.

“Well, glad that’s over with.”

Hanzo glared at him, and McCree grimly looked right back. He wiped at his face. A few flecks of blood and whatever else were smeared on his hands when he pulled them away. Perks of point-blank shots, he supposed. The ringing in his ears wasn’t much better.

Speaking of ringing…

“Hanzo, check your phone. What the fuck was so important that it nearly got us killed?”

Hanzo dug through his pockets to look at his phone, breathing hard. McCree noted that the gashes and scratches on his body were only bleeding sluggishly, though they were still wet and open.

Hanzo breathed a sigh of relief, visibly sagging.

“It’s Satya.”

McCree stepped over the demon’s quickly-decaying body to stand next to Hanzo, peering over his shoulder at his phone.

On screen, an urgent message told them to leave their location immediately-- it was a trap, or worse. Hanzo immediately looked up around them, hurriedly scanning their location.

His eyes settled on the cave opening. From here, it looked pitch dark once again.

“We need to go,” Hanzo hissed. “It was calling to something. Someone else is _in there,_ Jesse. It’s going to know we are out here.”

McCree tipped his hat and looked back at the body. It was little more than rot by now, the carcass graying and falling apart as he watched. It’d be gone in minutes, broken down to must. They could afford to leave it to the wilds.

“Then let’s not waste time, partner.” He shoved his gun back in its holster and grabbed Hanzo’s hand, rushing back down the slope of the hill they’d crept up what seemed like hours ago. They slipped and slid on the frost-covered ground.

“We will contact Satya when we return, just-- I’ll need a minute--” Hanzo huffed as they ran. McCree was already out of breath but not willing to risk another ambush by whatever the hell was running the show back in that cave. Hanzo’s house wasn’t too far-- maybe a mile down the road from the park. It would be a hard  trek, but he could do it so long as he had someone to watch his back when he had to slow.

“Can’t run and talk,” McCree grunted, panting as he stumbled over a tree root. Hanzo was still gripping his hand tightly, claws prickly against his sweaty palm.

“I will need a moment to heal,” Hanzo continued as they ran down the hills. They were nearly at the entrance to the park now. McCree could see the large sign marking the top of the trail. “I’m-- I can heal you later if you wish--”

McCree made a face that said _this really isn’t the time_ as he started to sprint down the road. The pavement made his steps easier. He was more than eager to get back within the protective barrier of Hanzo’s property.

\--

McCree was honestly surprised they made it the miles back to Hanzo’s without being accosted by anyone. It was their first stroke of luck all day. Hanzo seemed incapable of pulling his body back together, and as they ran, he got stranger and stranger: his limbs were long, his fingers and toes sharp, and his face took on a strange, twisted mien that was just a little too sharp to be human.

McCree’s heart raced from that as much as it did from the sprint.

Hanzo was still breathing roughly when they slammed through his door, and the blood on his face and neck oozed on the windowblinds when he rested bodily against the door. McCree dropped his kit with a thud and started peeling off his layers, ready to pace and pull out notebooks to see what could be done. There was gun maintenance and authorities to alert and--

“I need-- I need your help.”

McCree looked up, startled. Hanzo’s voice sounded strained, almost strangled. He was leaning heavily against the door, his horns scraping against the wooden surface. The long column of his neck was exposed, and McCree watched his throat bob unevenly as he sucked in deep breaths. Even bloodied, he was beautiful as anything.

He rushed over.

“What do you need me to do?” He started to pull at Hanzo’s clothes, trying to get a look at his wounds. The other demon’s teeth and nails had been blunt, so it was unlikely to be venom, and he’d dampened it so it couldn’t be magic, but--

“I need--” Hanzo whined. It was a high, angry sound, frustrated more than anything. Half a sob choked him as it struggled out of his throat. “I need to _eat_ ,” he finally gasped. “I can’t fix myself otherwise.”

McCree stiffened. His hands were still wrapped tightly in Hanzo’s outer jacket, fisted in the thin fabric. Hanzo was far from his usual self right now. His face was morphed-- just a little beyond human. It was a little too sharp, his jaw a little too big. His eyes blazed gold, the pupils slitted so tiny they were practically nonexistent.

He kissed him anyway.

It was rough and harsh and nothing close to what they’d been doing the last few days. McCree panted against him, determined to start the process that would give Hanzo some kind of energy to work with. He pressed Hanzo into the door. His hands were still fisted in Hanzo’s jacket, and he hauled him closer, pressing his mouth to Hanzo’s strangely twisted jaw.

Hanzo started to suckle at his bottom lip, tugging at it a little too rough to be called pleasant. It drew blood, but more than that, McCree could feel the slow cold pull of energy being drawn out of him. It sent a wild rush through his body. His heart rate skyrocketed and he pushed himself into Hanzo’s space.

He wasn’t looking so good. Hanzo may have been a predator, but he was weakened now and losing control. McCree practically force fed him his energy, licking into his mouth and shoving Hanzo’s face to his neck.

“Eat, then,” he growled. McCree was exhausted too, but the heady buzz he got from Hanzo feeding off him would keep him going until the end, at least. And then he could just...fall. They were safe in Hanzo’s home, guarded by the protections they’d been reinforcing the last few days.

Hanzo's hands latched onto McCree's shoulders, and the hunter felt his bones creak with the force of it. Hanzo surged forward, almost knocking McCree to the floor.

“We're not fucking by your door,” McCree said. “Let's go, hup to it.” He started to lead him towards the bedroom by the arm. Hanzo followed blindly, eyes focused hungrily on McCree’s torso. McCree flushed under his gaze and pulled him along.

They'd barely made it past the doorframe when Hanzo stumbled into him, and thus McCree stumbled into the bed. The two of them crashed into the corner of the mattress and barely made it to its top. The blankets dragged haphazardly as they fell across the bed, Hanzo latching onto McCree’s shoulder even as they tumbled.

Mccree groaned and rolled against Hanzo, hips grinding up against the hard wall of his body.

Hanzo was grasping at him, panting harshly as he tried to gain access to skin. A single button rudely popped off into the distance as Hanzo pawed at McCree's clothing. If they hadn't already spent too much time idly undressing each other, McCree might have been miffed, but as it was he just tried to salvage the rest of his clothing while he could. He shucked out of his overshirt and shrugged off his t-shirt, groaning when Hanzo rested his forehead on McCree's breastbone and tried to catch his breath.

“Let me help you, darlin’, c’mon.” Mccree coached him, running his hands along Hanzo’s shoulders. He deftly pulled down the zipper on hanzo's jacket and roughly forced it down. Hanzo struggled in his sleeves, whining a little when he was left with only his face in contact with McCree’s body. He rubbed his cheeks along McCree's hairy chest, his horns scraping dangerously close to McCree’s throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hanzo swore. “I can...I can feel your blood. I need more.” He looked up beseechingly, sharp teeth denting his lips ever so slightly. “ _Please_.”

“Well, at least you remembered your manners before you ravished me this time,” McCree joked. His nervous laughter was cut off sharply when Hanzo’s arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and tugged him close, hands cradling McCree’s head. McCree could feel sharp nails pressing just this side of uncomfortable into his scalp, scratching through his hair as Hanzo leaned in. He was stopped with a gentle hand to his lips.

“Do you have enough control to put the teeth away first?” He poked out his tongue, showing a couple minuscule cuts.

Hanzo huffed and took a moment to gather himself, and when he pushed back into the warm space between his and McCree’s shoulders, his teeth were blunt on McCree’s jaw. McCree hummed appreciatively and shivered as Hanzo ate. Hanzo’s long tongue swiped around the shell of McCree’s ear, searingly hot.

“Shiiiiit.” McCree moaned, clutching at Hanzo’s long hair and narrowly avoiding his horns. McCree pulled Hanzo away long enough to shove the demon’s pants down before scrabbling at his belt buckle. Hanzo seemed more preoccupied with chasing lines of the now-familiar golden mist across McCree’s body, but every bit of contact left McCree desperate for skin.

“Just fuckin-- _goddamn_ ,” McCree hissed as Hanzo latched onto a nipple, sucking voraciously as his fingers quested across the broad span of McCree’s back. “Yeah, that. Shit, let me get my fuckin’ pants off.” He yanked Hanzo’s face away for a minute but couldn’t escape his hands, which were roaming distractingly as McCree wriggled out of his jeans and scooted back on the bed.

McCree pulled Hanzo over and tipped his chin up, kissing him soundly before spinning him around and pinning Hanzo against the headboard.

With an arm on either side of Hanzo’s head, he leaned in and made sure to look into Hanzo’s golden eyes as he spoke.

“I’m gonna ride you into the fuckin’ sunset, and when you’re back to fightin’ fit we’re gonna figure out what the fuck’s been skulking around this shitty forest.” He licked into Hanzo’s mouth, hands coming up to grasp at the base of each horn. He rubbed his fingers into the point where skin met keratin and laughed as Hanzo whined needily, eyes glazed as if in a fever. “We’ll kill the son of a bitch, celebrate with _whatever_ you want, and _then_ ,” whispered, biting Hanzo’s lip, “you’re gonna fuck me until I can’t walk for a week. Now _eat_.”

Hanzo looked like he might break if he kept talking, so McCree shut up and threw his body forward to grind up on Hanzo’s loose limbs. The demon was tense everywhere he didn’t need it-- knots in his shoulders, calves tensed up as if in pain-- but his lips were pliant and needy, following the line of McCree’s neck seamlessly to suck on the expanse of skin below his clavicle.

McCree watched in a haze as Hanzo’s wounds started to heal themselves. His shoulder was still slick with blood, but the gash closed quickly after a few seconds of his hot tongue chasing along McCree’s chest. McCree groaned when Hanzo’s hands came up to grab his ass, kneading and pulling his thighs apart to slide a leg between them. McCree’s dick was already throbbingly hard-- had been just about since he’d shoved Hanzo up against the front door-- and he appreciated the hard muscles of Hanzo’s thigh pressing up against him.

McCree felt for the fingers pressing into his asscheeks, and grumbled when he found that Hanzo’s nails were still deadly sharp.

And Hanzo seemed too distracted to blunt them.

Okay, fine. McCree could make this work.

He reached a hand down grab himself, stroking a few times just to try and quell the burning in his gut that demanded some kind of contact. His hand bumped up against Hanzo’s stomach every time, and he distracted himself further by keeping a grip on one of Hanzo’s horns, rubbing at the sensitive base and using it to pull his head aside so he could mouth at the space behind Hanzo’s ear.

He reluctantly let himself go in favor of sliding lower. He was about to start prodding gently when he realized he didn’t know where Hanzo was keeping the lube now.

Okay, _fine_. McCree would make it _work_.

He slipped his fingers into Hanzo’s mouth and plucked at his tongue. Hanzo was so out of it that he just twisted his long tongue around McCree’s fingers, sucking at him up to his thick knuckles and making pleased noises as McCree pet his tongue.

When they were good and slick, McCree pulled his wet fingers out and quickly shoved them back behind his balls, circling around his hole. He couldn’t help but cup his sack a minute, playing with the slick slide of Hanzo’s otherworldly saliva against his taint.

A forceful knead of his ass got him focused again, and he shuddered when Hanzo stuck his face in the crook of his neck and ground up against him, rubbing his hard cock into the dip of McCree’s hip. All it did was spur him on. McCree worked two fingers into his asshole, relishing the stretch of it. His ass was hot and snug around his fingers, and he could only imagine just how good it would feel to have something fucking into it-- something longer, something thicker, something with better leverage than his measly fingers. He bucked up into Hanzo, smearing the wet head of his cock along his stomach.

“God, _fuck_ ,” McCree hissed, trying to get a better angle. He could feel the thick length of Hanzo’s cock rubbing up against him the closer he pressed himself. Its weird ridged underside bumped up against the back of his wrist as he fingered himself, making him desperate as he found a goal to work towards.

He’d gotten his hands on Hanzo’s cock. Watching the demon jerk off and spill onto his stretched asshole had been overwhelmingly hot, but he needed more than a wet tease to get off right now.

He shoved another finger in, feeling around and trying to find his prostate. It’d be so much easier if he could just... And there it fucking was, just out of reach from his awkward angle. He grunted in frustration and added a fourth finger. It was tight-- _so_ fucking tight, almost too much constriction around his knuckles-- but he knew Hanzo’s dick would be bigger than that when he finally fucked him.

Hanzo was still dazedly grinding up against him, more focused on feeding than fulfilling any kind of sexual advance. He seemed willing to leave that up to McCree, and McCree was honestly more than able to get himself where he needed to be. Every bite and suckle along his body left a wake of fire; the contrast of the cool pull of energy off his body and the heated arousal caused by Hanzo’s demon saliva drove him wild, making him desperate to get some kind of fulfillment.

Or just a filling, maybe. A good stuffing.

He pulled his fingers out and rolled his hips along Hanzo’s body, trying to get some friction on his dick. When he reached down to touch Hanzo’s cock, he found that it was already wet-- a little slippery with precome and something that was probably demonic in nature but was mostly just really fucking convenient at the moment.

When McCree leaned forward to adjust himself above Hanzo’s lap he noticed that the bruises on Hanzo’s face had receded into a dull yellow. He wistfully wished he could do the same-- wished he could fuck himself healthy again. His shoulder was still sore, and wriggling against Hanzo’s lap wasn’t doing much for his back, which was stiff from his tumble in the cave. He’d need a hot shower for _so_ many reasons later.

But for now, he was more than happy to get himself all messed up. He wanted that dick, god damn it, and he’d have it before he gave up and let himself rest. The adrenaline of fleeing had started this, and Hanzo’s freakish aura would get him through it, and then he’d finally be able to crash after a good hard fuck.

He’d sleep for a week when he was done.

Hanzo was clearly interested in the proceedings but not particularly invested in putting any effort in. McCree could work enough for both of them, though. He hefted himself up, savoring the way Hanzo trailed after him, grazing his teeth over hard skin and muscle in just a way to draw gooseflesh along the path his mouth paved. He jumped when Hanzo suddenly grabbed a thick handful of his ass and pulled him close, clumsily thrusting up as if he had finally realized what McCree wanted.

“Yeah, you got the idea,” McCree encouraged him, “Just fuckin’-- yeah, god.” Hanzo was rubbing the thick head of his cock along McCree’s taint, teasing the stretched skin of his asshole until McCree got frustrated enough to reach underneath himself and situate things how he wanted them.

He lined up Hanzo’s cock with the pucker of his asshole and started to work his way down, enjoying the heady press of Hanzo’s cock plunging in. The stretch was enormous and slow, and he almost pulled back, ready to gather himself and try again. But Hanzo wriggled a little and reached his hand past McCree’s sweaty crack to guide his cock in and hold it steady, and the ridge of the head finally popped in. McCree paused, panting as he adjusted. He knew the shaft would be even thicker-- Hanzo’s dick was shaped oddly, different from a human’s. And though it would undoubtedly be good once it was in, there was an adjustment period.

Hanzo wriggled under him and pet along the line where Hanzo’s cock pressed into McCree’s ass, and McCree gave up on patience. Screw the adjustment period.

He put his weight into it and dropped down.

McCree’s torso was littered with bruises and scratches of varying origins. It felt like the better Hanzo got-- the more he ate, the more he healed-- the worse off McCree became. The minor wounds were healing as Hanzo worked over his body, but he was dizzy now, eyes watering and breath ragged. His cock felt full to bursting, throbbing as he desperately rubbed himself up against Hanzo. He wanted _friction_ , he wanted the push and pull of a good fuck. Hanzo’s nails dug into his hip as he started to roll his hips.

He wanted to make it last, really, but the more contact he got the harder his blood thrummed in his veins. His head swam like he was at the top of a ship’s mast swaying out above open water. A giddy swoop in his gut had him laughing shakily and jerking his hips, trying to get Hanzo’s cock good and deep.

Hanzo fed off and fucked him-- used his meager leverage to drag the fat end of his cock along the sensitive skin just inside McCree’s rim, rubbing the ridges of his cock roughly. One set of sharp fingers gripped McCree’s hip while the other tugged at McCree’s hair. It was a continuous feedback loop of sensations: McCree pulled Hanzo’s horns, Hanzo jumped and fucked him harder, McCree bit, Hanzo scratched, they both fell apart.

McCree was shaking by the time he was about to come, his muscles overworked and unstable. He was wobbly on his knees, leaning on Hanzo for sensation as much as for support. He jerked spasmodically into his fist, savoring the texture of his piercings slipping through his palms. The barbells dragged pleasantly along the hot skin of his fingertips, wet with precome and spit and sweat.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop--” McCree gasped. Hanzo was latched onto his shoulder, biting at the meat of it with blunted teeth. He looked healthy again-- flushed red with exertion, his hair pleasantly mussed and eyes heavy with desire.

“I don’t-- I do not think I could if it wanted to,” Hanzo groaned. He thunked his heavy forehead down on McCree’s shoulder, nudging his chin with a horn as he fucked up into McCree’s hole.

McCree gripped the back of Hanzo’s neck with one possessive hand and squeezed the red head of his cock with the other, pulling it almost too hard for it to feel good. He flinched when Hanzo’s hand joined him-- the claws were still out-- but Hanzo just wrapped his own hand around McCree’s and helped him get off.

McCree came with a full-body shudder. His hips jumped, twitching as he finished wetly across Hanzo’s stomach. He spasmed for minutes after, spurting weakly whenever Hanzo drove his cock in deeper, trying to find his own end without interrupting McCree’s.

“Yeahhhhh,” McCree said with a satisfied groan. “Do it, Han, just-- just mess me _up._ ”

A few more rough thrusts later and Hanzo was slamming into McCree with no finesse at all, coming hard and almost knocking McCree over with the force of his hips.

The second McCree felt Hanzo come inside him something weird happened: almost blindingly sharp pleasure ran through McCree. He could have screamed, would have fallen over if Hanzo hadn’t already been wrapped around him. He came a second time, ass still full of cock. It was dry, but intense, his spent dick drooling just a speck as he nearly passed out.

By the time McCree could think clearly again Hanzo was gradually lowering them to their sides and starting to pull out, leaving McCree sloppily covered in the remnants of blood and come and sweat. He groaned, unable to focus his eyes.

McCree threw a heavy arm over his face, breathing hard. Even if his face had been clear, his vision was dark and swimming. He was lightheaded beyond reason, probably on the verge of passing out. 

Worth it.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Hanzo replied from somewhere to his left.

“Much.” Hanzo sounded pleased. And then: “...Sorry.”

“I agreed to it, didn’t I?”

“I suppose,” Hanzo said guiltily. McCree heard the rustle of the bedroom curtains as Hanzo undoubtedly looked out at the surrounded land, searching for threats. “The wards are strong. We should be safe.”

McCree stretched and dozed for a bit. His wounds had been healed, but there were other ways to be sore. He’d have a hell of a time cleaning himself up later. Hanzo came by at one point with a towel and wiped him down before saying something about making lunch and disappearing. McCree was more distracted by the apparent wobbling of the ground than the smell of something hot cooking the next room over. He almost felt drunk-- pleasantly so, with the same warm buzz in his veins and softness in his chest-- but still, an inkling of worry sat at the edge of his mind.

He didn’t have time to relax like this.

McCree spent a long few minutes in anticipation before crawling shakily to his pants and fishing his phone out. It was loaded with his notes and some photos from the cave sites they’d visited. He wanted to look them over and see if there were any similarities between them. They’d only found the demon in that last cave, but there had been remains of visitors at other areas around the parks.

There were plenty that could have been from human vandals, but something was off. There were numerous victims before McCree had arrived in town-- and they weren’t talking. There was no telling if they’d been ‘acquaintances’ of Hanzo’s. No one was dead, but a couple of the early ones had been in brief comas and still recovering.

Of the two people McCree and Hanzo had talked to, the demon had attacked Marcus first, apparently accompanied by something. It must have been starving then. And violent.

Then it went after Marie. It was less hungry at that point and apparently alone. But it had been able to imitate Hanzo’s shape by then, despite being weak. Even Hanzo hadn’t displayed any shapeshifting skills, and he was much older than the thing they’d killed. And they were supposed to be similar creatures.

Hanzo said there weren’t other demons here when he’d moved in. There had to be something else going on.

McCree’s thoughts were interrupted by Hanzo walking in with a tablet in hand. He sat down on the bed next to McCree and started to play a video.

A gorgeous woman with long dark hair and a smattering of iridescent scales along her cheekbones was facing the camera. Her regal profile backed away from them, revealing a swathe of reptilian skin meeting soft human flesh somewhere around her midsection. She was wearing a smartly tailored blouse, but her muscular tail was coiled neatly beneath her as she settled a ways away from the camera.

A lamia.

“Hanzo.” She had a lightly accented voice-- it would have been pleasant, if it didn’t sound so frantic. “I apologize for my late reply. I asked Ana for help. She has her eye in right for once and-- Hanzo, you know her accuracy is deadly.”

Hanzo tilted the tablet so that McCree could see it better.

“There’s something big out there-- something old.” She shifted, and her scales gleamed, even as she looked disturbed. “It will be crafty. I cannot get a clear vision of it, but Ana says to be cautious. You may have a fox on your hands. Be safe. Please let me know when you receive this.”

Hanzo paused the video.

“If she has contacted Ana, it must be something significant,” he said grimly. “But a fox?”

“There are plenty of legends about foxes,” McCree pointed out. “And plenty of old wives’ tales.”

Hanzo frowned. “Supernatural foxes are not usually so aggressive, though...tricksters, yes, but killers?”

“Aggressive, hungry animals? Hanzo, you live in a rural area. I’d be downright surprised if you’d never run into something like that before.”

“It has not been an issue up to this point.”

McCree raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Darlin’, I think there may have been an issue you didn’t want to see. These things don’t just _happen._ ” Hanzo bristled, and McCree sighed, trying to soothe Hanzo’s obviously wounded pride. “You’re a busy fella,” he said placatingly. “Maybe you were rude on accident. It’s possible, what with you being out and about all the time. You probably just missed it.”

“I do not _miss_ things.”

McCree sighed.

“Look, the spitfire we shot down today specified a female accomplice. So that’s a lead. Knocks out a whole slew of other nasties.” He rested his head on Hanzo’s side, shifting his body to curl around Hanzo’s seated form. “Hopefully we’ve bought ourselves some time.”

McCree almost missed the tiny dip of Hanzo’s chin as he nodded. His hair hid his face, but McCree would have taken the action for nervous.

“Hey, c’mon,” he cajoled, patting Hanzo’s arm. “This is why I’m here, ain’t it? You’re paying for my beautiful brain.” He smirked. “The body is just a perk.”

Hanzo huffed and rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

“You go do your thing, sweetpea. I’ll pull out my charts and whatnot after a nap and get crackin’ on this pickle we’ve got ourselves in.”

Hanzo squeezed McCree’s hand and stood up, tablet held close. The paused video was still loaded on the screen. The snake woman's worried eyes gleamed darkly.

“Coffee?”

McCree yawned widely.

“You know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! To be honest, writing this fic has been a huge learning experience. Next time I write a multi-chaptered fic (this was my first one) I'll be finishing it in its entirety, editing it, and then breaking it up into chapters before posting any of it. 
> 
> As always, questions, comments, pleased yelling, etc are all welcome. I take criticism well if you want to help me improve. : )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for animal-related gore.
> 
> Dang, I didn't mean to go this long between updates! I got a couple commissions and the new semester started, so this fic kind of fell by the wayside. Consider this 13k monster chapter an apology. Happy Valentine's Day!

 “It just doesn’t add up.”

McCree scratched at his scruff again, squinting at his phone. He had a broad notebook and a couple pocket reference books set up on the desk. Hanzo was letting him borrow table space in his office while he tried to figure out what they were hunting.

“What doesn’t?” Hanzo looked up from where he was scratching away at some paperwork.

“It’s a shapeshifter, we got that much. That demon kid was a shambles. Marcus said it didn’t transform much beyond being attractive, Marie said the thing that got her was badly put together, and when I got a look at it the thing was a damn mess.”

“But?”

“But if it’s this powerful thing, there’s got to be more to it, right?”

Hanzo nodded. “One would assume.”

“So maybe it’s a coyote? It courts death. We’ve seen that. They do all that business with the mortal planes, yeah?”

Hanzo frowned slightly. “On occasion. There are a lot of liaisons, though.”

“And it wants a territory.” He rested his chin on one hand and tapped at a page in his book. “So maybe it’s looking to settle down?

“Coyotes are pack animals,” Hanzo pointed out. “This one obviously does not get along well with others. If it has no family, it is likely an outcast.” His frown deepened. “Outcasts generally do not do well after a long time without support. They....suffer.”

Hanzo shoved himself away from the table, stretching his arms above his head. They’d been at this for hours. 

“Besides,” Hanzo said, yawning. “This is pointless. Satya clearly said that it is a fox.”

“But it could be something else,” McCree insisted. “There are other options. Less deadly options.”

“It would not do well to assume the least of what we are hunting, Jesse. Better to overprepare and have it over quickly than come peddling weak trinkets that leave us bloody pulp in the forest.”

“Ugh.” McCree dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his forehead. He was still exhausted from the night before, and a headache had been building ever since he’d woken up in Hanzo’s bed early this morning. “I left messages on the boards for some feedback from other hunters, and I requested some additional info on fox-based spirits and phenomenon. Dunno how long it’ll take to get a response, though.”

“Well, we cannot simply stay indoors all day.” Hanzo fidgeted. “At least I can’t. Book research is all well and good, but I am used to much more physical activity. Are there any other physical locations we can visit for information?”

McCree rubbed his chin.

“Well, there’s the parks-- I called the park service after that run-in in the cave and they said there’ might be some squatters on the campgrounds. We could check that out. And I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to talk to that Marcus kid again. He saw it pretty clear, right? And he said the place was a mess by the time his roommate found him. There might have been evidence there.”

Hanzo suddenly straightened up.

“The fur!” He whirled around to look at McCree. “He said he found fur around the apartment. If he still had some, would you be able to do anything with it?”

McCree grinned. “Honey, I could track a fruit fly with a speck off its dainty little leg.”

Hanzo started hurrying to put his coat on, shuffling around the office to put things in order as he made his way towards the front door.

“We should hurry, then. We do not want to give it time to find another victim. It has already exhausted my list of donors. I would loathe to see it strike out on fresh fodder.”

McCree grunted as he followed Hanzo out. “Sorry ‘bout that. No one would talk. I guess if I’d had you maybe the others would’ve had a bit more to say.”

Hanzo pressed his lips together. “My acquaintances are very trustworthy people.”

McCree smiled wryly. “Guess the trick’s in getting that trust, huh?"

“I choose very loyal humans,” Hanzo said defensively. “I do not hide, but it would not be to my benefit to have my presence here broadcast.”

They walked through the woods on a worn path from Hanzo’s house. The day was cold-- on the verge of snow, no doubt-- and McCree burrowed into his jacket’s lining further as they made their way to the main road.

“...Does that have anything to do with what that scrappy shit said about you being a blood traitor?”

Hanzo stiffened and almost seemed to stumble, but then sped up his pace. McCree had to half-jog to keep up with him. For someone half a foot shorter than him, Hanzo sure made use of his powerful legs.

“This is not a good place for this discussion.”

The silence from then on was awkward. All of McCree’s further attempts at conversation ended in stilted, terse responses.

Hanzo didn’t seem to relax at all until they reached Marcus’s apartment. He shook himself out, breathing deeply as he tried to ground himself before knocking on the door.

It took some banging. They waited long stretches between knocking, until McCree just started wailing on the door. _Someone_ had to open it.

“His car is out here,” Hanzo muttered. “What is he doing?”

They were about to leave when they heard the door creak open. McCree could see one bloodshot eye through the opening. The room behind the figure was dark, and he could see the chain lock clearly in place.

“...Hanzo?” The voice was weak, but unmistakably the same young man they’d talked to only days prior. Then, he had been boisterous and friendly. Now he seemed timid and wary.

“Marcus?” Hanzo seemed stunned. He stepped up the opening, seeming perplexed as Marcus flinched away from the door. “Is everything-- what happened to you?”

There was a series of clicks and clanks as locks were undone, and then the door was swinging open. McCree took in a sharp breath when he saw the man in front of him.

His face was bruised and raw, and he looked like he had a broken nose. Some of his piercings had obviously been torn away, and the aftermath was grisly. He was bandaged all over; his lip was split and swollen, and he held himself in a way that spoke of back or hip pain. The guy had swaddled himself in a thick blanket and looked ready to drop to the floor at a moment’s notice.

“Why did you come back, Hanzo?” His voice wavered.

“To...to talk to you again. We are still trying to catch the invader.” Hanzo seemed at a loss as to what to do. Glancing nervously between Marcus and McCree, Hanzo reached out to gently touch Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus jerked away, flinching as the movement obviously hurt him.

“And what am I supposed to do about it? It already came back once, dude; who’s to say that you coming here isn’t gonna make it finish me off?”

“Marcus,” Hanzo said beseechingly. “Please...tell us what happened this time.”

“You pissed it off is what happened,” Marcus snapped. “The...whatever...it, she, I don’t fucking care. It wasn’t who I took home. Maybe a sibling or something, I don’t fucking know. Maybe not. Same damn demonic beauty, haughty as hell, just fuckin’...barged in here.” He pulled his quilt tighter around himself. “It wanted answers about its friend and about you and then I thought maybe I could make it leave with a knife or something, or-- or table salt, I don’t know-- and it started to shred me.”

Hanzo paused, obviously torn. He looked up guiltily.

“I...I could…” He started to reach out as if to comfort Marcus, but the young man moved away again, backing further into his apartment.

Marcus’s voice was quiet when he replied.

“ _Don’t_.” He almost looked fearful. “I don’t want it. I’ll...I’ll be fine.”

McCree stepped between them.

“Hey, hey-- it’s alright. Hanzo, he’ll be okay.” He turned to Marcus. “You look pretty sturdy, kid, you’ll be fine. Just, uh…” He gestured around his own face. “Maybe get those checked out.”

He straightened up. “Hold up-- I have a balm. Did it get anything on you?”

Marcus shook his head. “Nah, but it got some of me on it.” He held up his arm. There were deep gashes in it. “I’m pretty sure it carved out a good bit of me with its nails.”

“No venom? Fur? Blood?”

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t think so. I still have some of the stuff from the last disaster, but I honestly don’t know if it’s the same thing that got in here.”

McCree and Hanzo looked at each other knowingly. McCree put his hands on his hips, stretching out.

“Well, damn, that’d be a huge help. You mind sparing us a bit?”

Marcus shuffled over to the kitchen. He took out a creased cardboard box and opened it up. There were bits of coarse white and gray fur inside. It looked like they had been literally torn off the owner.

McCree clapped and rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“ _Excellent_ , darlin’, thank you. We’ll get this fucker in no time.”

\--

They hung around for awhile after that. Hanzo fussed over Marcus while McCree inspected the fur. A flare of jealousy hit McCree hard in the chest as he watched Hanzo fetch food and tea and blankets and medical supplies for Marcus, tending to him attentively. The demon had been the same for McCree, and it hurt a little that the behavior seemed to be more general than personal.

He knew Hanzo liked him. That much was very clear. But they’d only known each other for a week, now. The fact that they’d been sleeping together from the get-go only complicated matters. McCree tried to separate it a bit-- work and personal life-- but the relationship was so tangled that it was hard to differentiate the multitude of emotions that gripped him when he watched Hanzo putter around Marcus’s tiny apartment.

McCree scowled. He was a responsible person. And technically Hanzo’s employee, if he wanted to go by who was paying for his services. He could handle watching someone he had little connection with take care of someone they already knew well-- and intimately.

The problem, of course, was that McCree _wanted_ to know Hanzo better. It ate him up a bit that there was a constant pressure to get the work done and no time to simply let whatever their relationship was unfold.

But he persisted-- he was a professional, after all-- and found that he could focus as long as he found a quiet corner. He sat down on Marcus’s lumpy couch and got to work. It turned out he could get quite a bit of information out of the tufts of rough fur in the box Marcus had handed him.

The fur was roughly textured and a mix of snow white and dirty gray, and some of the tufts had small patches of what almost looked like-- and probably were-- flesh on them, as if they had been torn off. Which begged the question: what did it fight? Did the minor demon that went home with Marcus bring something with it? McCree ran a finger through the fur. There were finer, softer bits at the base of a hunk, almost like an undercoat.

Perfect for winter.

McCree suddenly sat up, almost knocking the box off his lap. He rushed into Marcus’s room, hesitating at the doorway. Hanzo was sitting in a desk chair across the room from Marcus’s bed, for all appearances trying to avoid being too close. The lamp was off, but soft morning light came through the curtains.

They both looked surprised when McCree blocked the light streaming in from the living room.

He wasn’t out of breath, but he might as well have been from excitement.

“Marcus.” McCree started. “What did the person you brought home look like?”

Marcus shifted in his blankets.

“Just...it’s weird, but I had a hard time pinning down what they looked like, man. I thought it was the lighting but...I don’t know? Really, really hot. Kind of a biter. I was sort of into it at first, but--”

“But what did it _look_ like?” McCree pressed.

“Round face, kind of androgynous...soft body. Deadliest smile-- I _had_ to bring them home when they smiled at me, it was unreal. And they were dressed to the fuckin’ nines, obviously out to get laid.” He smiled sadly. “Guess it was a little too easy, huh? Figures.”

Hanzo tried his best to comfort him. “There will be others, you are a good young man.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks, Hanzo. I sure hope there are more soul-sucking demons out there that only want me for my body. It’s been real great experience so far.”

Hanzo looked intensely uncomfortable.

“I am sorry, I just-- if you ever wanted-- or didn’t want-- I--”

Marcus put up a hand and Hanzo immediately went silent, tense in his seat.

“It’s fine, Hanzo. You were fine.” His face was gentle, but he looked tired. He pulled his quilt around himself more tightly and rolled to face the wall.

McCree wanted to be invested in the scene before him, but he was too excited about the information Marcus had given him to put out much of his heart for the object of his jealousy.

 _Dressed to the nines._ Of all the fucking phrases to choose. McCree grinned toothily, pocketing the little box of fur.

They were finally on to something.

\--

McCree was barely able to wait until they got out of Marcus’s apartment before spilling the beans.

“He didn’t sleep with the one we killed,” McCree said in a rush. “There was a switch; there had to be.”

“He what?” Hanzo looked startled. His hand was still on the doorknob. A cold wind blew strands of hair in his crimped face as McCree tried to explain.

“The _demon--_ he didn’t sleep with it.” McCree started to pace, walking in a circle on the landing before starting towards the street with purposeful strides. “He got somethin’ else in his bed, and it fucked him over real good.”

Hanzo hurried to catch up.

“And what do you suppose it was?”

“I…” McCree paused, squinting into the overcast sky. “I’m not a hundred percent on this, but I think Satya was right about the fox. She’s got good eyes if she could tell from where she is.”

  
Hanzo nodded. 

“She is an intelligent woman and works well with little information to go on.”

“Do you think she’ll have anything else for us if we call her?” McCree  turned an intense stare on Hanzo. He was excited now, ready for a hunt. Good clues always made things interesting-- fun, almost. There were so _close_.

“I...I suppose it is worth a try. She may have seen something else since she last messaged me.”

McCree rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“Excellent, seriously Hanzo, this is _good._ ” The thought suddenly occurred to him to check his messages. “Annnnd....ah, here we go. Alerts from the forums.” He glanced up at Hanzo, then at the sky. The clouds were low and gray, heavy with precipitation. “Might wanna get home first, though.”

\--

The first thing McCree did when they got back to Hanzo’s house was to plop himself down on the couch and pull out his phone. He could hear Hanzo in the background rustling around in the kitchen, but he was more preoccupied with checking his messages.

He’d posted earlier about what they’d found so far to see if anyone had any insight. Unfortunately, most of the responses had been negative. Not just empty-handed-- but angry. They didn’t like that he was working with a demon, even one that had supposedly been going out of its way not to harm anyone.

McCree frowned. There was one-- someone just going by s76-- that seemed most distrusting.

_I’ve been in that area, and that’s no good news. Stay clear of the deceivers. There are no good supernaturals._

McCree huffed. He was doing perfectly fine with his choices, thank you very much. He didn’t bother responding, choosing instead to look at the letter the council representative had responded to him with.

 

_Dear Representative McCree:_

_We are sorry to inform you…_

 

McCree scanned the letter before locking his phone and leaning his head back against the couch. 

“Well, shit.”

“What is it?” Hanzo was across the room in his little kitchenette, puttering around with a pot on the stove and something on a cutting board.

“I thought I’d at least get some kind of info or backup or something, but no one wants to help.” He frowned. “The council actually explicitly stated that they would not allow assistance because they didn’t want to  get involved in ‘’supernatural affairs’.” He snorted. “Beyond straight up indiscriminate slaughter, apparently.”

Hanzo paused, hands fiddling with a spoon in the pot.

“Did they say why?”

“Nah.” McCree put his feet up, slumping down into the cushions. The stupid couch was too damn comfy; he’d be more likely to be seduced by its plush back than Hanzo’s lap if he found a nap calling him. “Just some bullshit about ‘staying impartial’ while simultaneously making things worse.”

There were a few minutes of silence while McCree drifted lightly, brain occupied with thoughts of what they should do next. Then:

“I’m sorry, Jesse.” It was quiet, barely audible over the hissing of food on the stove. McCree sat up, pushing himself onto his elbows so he could see over the counters into the kitchen area.

“Pardon?”

“If you were not with me, they would not have refused your request.”

“If I wasn’t with you, there wouldn’t _be_ a request, or probably even a hunt, and I wouldn’t even be in the state.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Once again, Hanzo looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“I’m--”

“I swear to god, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to slap your perfect face.” McCree’s frown softened. “I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I can help. Even if you hadn’t been here, Hanzo, this thing probably would’ve moved in eventually. You’re helping just by living here.”

Hanzo seemed to take little comfort in McCree’s words, so McCree persisted.

“You’ve helped the town a lot. Look at Marie,” he pointed out. “Direct assistance. And Marcus. And all the others. The fucking pie lady, for pete’s sake.” He smiled. “People here obviously like you.”

Hanzo scowled.

“They would not like me if they knew why I am here.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then fuckin’ tell me, since you avoided it earlier. Is _this_ a better place for this discussion?”

Hanzo sighed tersely, jaw grit tight.

“As good as I will find, I suppose.”

McCree leaned back on the sofa, settling into a good groove.

“Lay it on me, partner.”

Hanzo hesitated.

“I am of interesting heritage…” he stirred the pot while he seemed to contemplate his words. “Do you know anything about demon family structure?”

“All I know is what Overwatch has trained me on, and it’s not much beyond ‘shoot here, cut there.’” McCree said. “Plus your bit about the apprenticeship thing.”

“Yes, well... it’s a bit more complicated than that. There are all sorts of supernatural creatures from all sorts of planes; demons originate from a different one than humans, but we are able to take on forms here for awhile as long as we are properly cared for.” He tapped the spoon on the pot and then placed a lid over the whole thing, turning to look at McCree. “We have longer lifespans. We have different strengths than humans or other supernatural creatures. We do not have tithes to most earth elements like the moon or seasons or weather.”

“But you do for energy?”

“Of course.” Hanzo scoffed. “Every living thing must eat. Because I am not native to this plane, I have to maintain my form by gathering additional energy.” He crossed his arms defensively. “I try not to burden people too much with it.”

McCree took the hint, sitting up on the couch and stretching, making room. Hanzo walked over and hovered until McCree patted the seat next to him, and they ended up facing each other in the deep seats.

“I take it not everyone has that view?”

Hanzo pursed his lips in a distasteful moue.

“My family is a very traditional group. We are old blood. We have spawned from the same area for millennia and generally populated land in Japan, which has its own strict customs.” The demon scratched at his scalp self-consciously, fingers lingering over where his horns would be. “It was...often thought that because we have been on that land longer than the humans, we were more deserving of it. And that we were entitled to the humans that made use of our land.”

“I’m guessin’ you didn’t quite agree with that, then.” McCree’s tone was matter-of-fact. Hanzo’s face said it all.

“I did not. Neither did my brother. And when Genji went so far as to defend a human against any kind of feeding, well…” he trailed off. “It was heavily implied to me that I should ‘fix’ his behavior by any means necessary. In the end it was much easier to send my relatives back off to hell than to live with them here.”

  
McCree gaped when Hanzo only shrugged uncomfortably.

“It was not _murder_ ,” Hanzo said defensively. “Probably. I left before I really found out what happened to the rest of them.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest, slumping into the couch. His hair swung in a sheet by his head, blocking his face from McCree’s view.

McCree draped his arm across the back of the couch, leaning into it as he studied Hanzo. He squirmed under McCree’s gaze.

“You realize I do that for a living, right, sweetheart?”

Hanzo flinched and hunched further into the couch.

“They do not call you blood traitor for it, though.”

“Nah, but I get called all sorts of other things. Not just by the ones I’m after, either.” He leaned closer to Hanzo, brushing his hair out of his red face. “Council’s lackey. Degenerate animal. Scavenger.” He chuckled softly. “And most of the humans I run into aren’t even aware of what I do for them.”

Hanzo let out a long breath through his nose, seeming to deflate.

“...Most of my family felt they were above the threat of hunters.” He smiled mirthlessly. “They certainly did not think they would be hunted by their own kind.” Hanzo turned his head towards McCree, pushing softly against the hand still in his hair. “We are not all bad,” he said quietly.

“I’m starting to figure that out,” he said, putting his hand on Hanzo’s knee and gripping lightly.

There was a long pause while their words hung in the air, soaking in. Hanzo started to gradually uncurl himself, straightening up minutely when McCree squeezed his knee reassuringly.

“...Hey.”

Hanzo looked up, eyes searching. McCree leaned in, a hand’s span away from his face. He started to move in, intent on a kiss, when Hanzo suddenly shot straight up in his seat.

“The _soup_!” he exclaimed. McCree was suddenly left with empty arms as Hanzo rushed across the room to the kitchen.

McCree sighed resignedly and fell back into the couch as Hanzo fretted over the stove, teeth worrying his lip as he stirred the pot.

After a minute McCree stood up, stretching his back and shuffling around the house just to move his legs. He still had some things to piece together, and he looked pensively out the windows onto Hanzo’s property as he contemplated what he’d managed to put together.

“Hey, Hanzo,” he called, staring out into the yard. A heavy curtain of snow was starting to swirl outside, coating the path to the main road in thick white flakes. “How old do you y’all get?”

Hanzo spared him a glance as he ladled soup into bowls.

“Excuse me?”

“How long do demons live?”

“I will probably live to 300 at the most; if you’re asking in general, though, it varies. There are all sorts of supernatural creatures in this world with origins different than I.” He started to walk back over to the living room with a bowl in each hand.

Taking his bowl, McCree ate standing up as he thought.

“Okay,” he said after gulping a mouthful of soup, “So...it’s possible to live longer than that? A lot longer?”

Hanzo hummed.

“Anything is possible, I suppose.”

McCree twisted his mouth in frustration as he debated for a minute. Finally, he spat it out.

“I think it’s a gumiho. Korean fox lady.”

Hanzo nearly choked. He sputtered, coughing.

“ _No_ ,” he said brokenly.

McCree reared up defensively.

“What, you think I got it wrong?”

“That’s not-- what would it be doing _here_?” Hanzo looked panicked, and McCree pressed his lips together in a grim line.

“Trying to take over your little slice of heaven, apparently.”

Hanzo growled frustratedly and dropped his spoon with a clank back in his bowl before shoving it away, scowling.

“There is an entire country and it has to settle _here_ of all places.”

McCree walked over to the couch, hovering on the back of it. He leaned over and slung an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. Hanzo leaned back into him, tilting his head back to look at his face. McCree’s frown softened.

“If it helps any, I don’t think it’s personal.”

Hanzo decidedly did _not_ sulk, but he did slump down into the couch. McCree pet his head and then resumed eating his lunch, spooning the soup down as fast as he could. Running around town was hard work.

“Okay, look,” McCree said, fishing a tuft of hair out of his pocket. He passed it to Hanzo. “Look at the grain on this stuff. Definitely canid. All white and thick all over, so it’s probably a winter coat. Ripped out, which matches the circumstances. Conclusion: furious fox lady tries to take over your energy-providing network but finds unsatisfactory sources, gets pissed, gets violent. And now she’s tryin’ to take you out.”

“That’s not--” Hanzo ran a hand frustratedly over his face, rubbing at his forehead. “This isn’t right. This isn’t _fair._ ”

McCree huffed a small laugh, walking around the room to settle himself back on the couch, setting the remains of his lunch on the table with a rattle. He slung one arm over the back of the couch and leaned over to scoot himself up against Hanzo.

“I don’t think these things usually are, sweetheart.”

Hanzo looked at him, clearly distressed. His eyes were a tinge more golden than usual and if McCree squinted, he was sure he’d see faint bumps up on his hairline.

“I have come a very long way from my origins _just_ to avoid things like this.”

“I know, I know.” McCree tugged Hanzo close, giving him a little squeeze. “You’ll be okay. _We’ll_ be okay. If I’m right about this, there are ways to fight it.”

Hanzo tucked his head up under McCree’s chin, and McCree winced at the small protrusions hitting his jaw. Yup, horns were definitely on the way.

“And if you are not?”

McCree shrugged.

“Then we keep looking until we figure it out.”

With a resigned sigh, Hanzo closed his eyes and relaxed minutely. McCree leaned over to kiss his brow, and Hanzo groaned happily, digging closer into his side. McCree beamed; he was warm from soup and good company and finally had a lead. His day was looking up already.

“You know…” McCree started. “We could celebrate early. Or at least relax a little before we get all gung-ho about tracking the thing down.”

“Oh?” Hanzo said breathily. He turned his face towards McCree, tucking his chin on the hunter’s shoulder and peering up at him.

“Well. I mean. If you’re up for it.” McCree smiled.

Hanzo hummed, leaning in for a kiss. “When am I not?”

As they leaned into each other, McCree started to wonder how he could have ever resisted Hanzo. Hanzo had been nothing short of a wonder the entire few days he’d known him. He’d been kind, and sly, and had a wicked dry sense of humor. He was vicious and protective in a fight and skilled with his chosen weapon. He was knowledgeable, he had _connections,_ and he was just...incredible.

Hanzo had been tender with him the whole time-- and respectful, and honestly McCree was quickly becoming enamored with him. The good food wasn’t helping.

After the rough few days they had, McCree was tired, but a burst of energy burned through him when Hanzo gently sucked at his neck and carefully drew one earlobe into his mouth and _tugged_. It was gentle but warm, and his hands roamed across McCree’s clothed chest, gripping his pectorals and rubbing languidly. McCree wanted nothing in that moment but to kiss him-- to show him just how excited he was to have this. He arched up into Hanzo, pressing their torsos together and drawing a harsh gasp from Hanzo when McCree turned into the couch so he could widen his legs and pull him closer.

He wrapped his arms, strong and warm, around Hanzo’s back and held him close. McCree rested his head on Hanzo’s shoulder while the demon nuzzled into the size of his neck, gently grazing sharpening teeth over the sensitive skin of his jaw.

“I was never into this before you,” he said quietly between deep breaths.

“Into what?” Hanzo asked while he ran a hand through McCree’s thick hair.

“The...this. Necking like some teenager on a couch. I’m usually a little more, uh, to the point.” He cleared his throat. “As you’ve seen.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Hanzo assured him. “Everyone has a pace they set. I’ve been with enough humans in my lifetime to notice that, at least.” He paused, drawing back slightly. McCree tightened his arms around him, loathe to let him go. “...Does that bother you?”

McCree looked at him fondly. Thought of the iron shavings and rock salt in his kit, of the knives and protective charms and bags of ash. All the dangerous things he’d surrounded him with, and he was completely comfortable leaving them stowed away when he was with Hanzo.

“...Nah. You are what you are. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Hanzo smiled wryly. “True.”

McCree reveled in the warmth in his chest. It set a flush to his face and limbs and left him feeling loose and lazy, content to just kiss. And kiss him Hanzo did, lips parted slightly and teeth gentle, just this side of sharp. He didn’t draw blood, but he drove McCree crazy, tugging on his lip, rubbing their tongues together. Even the soft, gentle kisses felt good, spurring McCree on to dig his fingers into Hanzo’s back and grind up against him. God, they were still _clothed_. McCree lowered one hand down and dipped it below the waistband of Hanzo’s pants and squeezed. McCree greedily grabbed a plush handful and used it as a handhold to get more pressure on himself.

Hanzo immediately ground down, pressing McCree into the cushions of the now-familiar couch. They were fully horizontal now, slid down from the backing of the couch. They’d been working their way there as they kissed, and McCree’s head was settled on a throw pillow that seemed almost out of place in Hanzo’s home. But damn if it wasn’t comfortable right now.

“ _God_ ,” McCree gasped. “Do that again.”

Hanzo laughed and complied, slowly rolling his hips and pressing through layers of clothing to rile McCree up even more. They both moaned, McCree’s breath rough as lust sent a rush through him. His heartbeat was up in his throat, pounding away so hard he was surprised Hanzo wasn’t commenting on it. Surely he could tell?

It was then that McCree noticed that there were no wisps of golden mist, no draw of energy coming off him. Hanzo wasn’t feeding.

“Not hungry?”

“No,” Hanzo said cheerily, leaning down to seal his lips over an exposed collarbone. “Just enjoying.”

McCree hummed happily and leaned up to kiss Hanzo again, deep and wet. The scruff of his small beard dragged along Hanzo’s chin, and Hanzo’s hand ran up to cup McCree’s jaw. He pet his thumb over the soft hair, scratching lightly and following the trail of hair up to the hinge of his jaw, to the soft spot behind his ear. Here he stroked lightly, running a finger behind the shell of his ear. It sent a shiver down through McCree’s back. Hanzo always seemed to know how to rile him up.

Was it from all his experience? It looked like not all of his relationships and ‘acquaintances’ were sexual, but surely he’d had his share of trysts.

Well, McCree mused, it really just meant more enjoyment for him. That wasn’t so bad.  

Hanzo left his face to run his nimble fingers over his chest, deftly starting to unbutton his outer shirt. The soft flannel parted to reveal his thin undershirt, his stiff nipples poking through just a bit. Hanzo was intensely focused on them. He leaned down and bit at one over McCree’s shirt, tugging skin and fabric in one pull, getting the cloth soaking wet. His other hand was circling the stiff point of McCree’s other nipple, rubbing up against it but still teasing.

“Fuck, that should be _illegal_ ,” McCree gasped. The gentleness was receding, and McCree wouldn’t have it any other way. He thought back to his first night: to the freezing woods, to the hot meal, to the hotter encounter on the very couch they lay on now. It was soured slightly by the surprise and assumptions of deceit, but he thought of it fondly still. He’d think of it long after he left town.

One of Hanzo’s hands slipped down to nudge McCree’s shirt, pushing it up. The cold air set him shivering and his skin pebbled where Hanzo’s hands trailed. McCree quickly started to shuffle out of his shirt, trying to shrug his outer flannel off and only succeeding in getting himself tangled with his arms behind his back. He paused, panting with exertion, as his wiggling only shoved his hips up against Hanzo’s stomach, rubbing his dick into Hanzo’s hard abs. He braced his feet on the edges of the couch and bucked up, trying to get more leverage.

Hanzo grabbed his bent knees and pulled him closer. The throw pillow beneath McCree’s head was shoved away, and he was left flat on the wide cushions of the couch.

“I don’t need to eat to wreck you,” Hanzo growled. McCree’s stomach jumped as Hanzo’s eyes melted into a soft gold and the beginnings of horns poked through his scalp. They jutted up magnificently, only highlighting the novelty of their weird intimate relationship. _Christ_ , McCree thought. _I’m ruined. This is it for me_.

Hanzo started working at McCree’s belt, quickly opening up his jeans and roughly pulling them down. McCree’s underwear was tented, his dick long past hard. Hanzo reached forward almost reverently and ran the pad of his thumb along the underside of it, feeling the ridges of McCree’s piercings. He seemed enamored with them, rubbing back and forth along the strip of skin the barbells ran through over and over.. A brief stab of jealousy arose in McCree’s chest when he thought of Marcus, with his numerous piercings. Was Hanzo just...into that?

Well, whatever, he could go with it. He’d gotten them because _he_ was into it in the first place.

“Okay, okay, wait.” McCree stopped Hanzo’s progression with a nudge from his knee-- his arms were still trapped behind him. “You gotta do something for me before we do anything else.”

“What is it?” Hanzo looked up at him inquisitively.

“Please, for the love of god, at least take off your shirt. I always end up naked first and it’s gettin’ to be a little annoying.”

Hanzo laughed softly, but backed off and stripped off his shirt. McCree greedily watched the play of his taut muscles as his shirt was lifted over his head: the tight stomach, the firm pecs. The swell of his biceps was unreal, proof of his hobbies and habits and maybe a little bit of genetics. He could have watched him all night, but Hanzo dropped his shirt to the side and unbuttoned his pants, sighing at the release of pressure on his groin. He smiled lustfully and ran a hand down his body, stopping finally to squeeze at what shaping up to be an impressive erection.

McCree thought back to the previous day. His mouth started to water.

He didn’t get a chance to do anything with it though, because Hanzo was scooting down the couch, coming to rest between McCree’s legs. He worked McCree’s pants and underwear off. McCree felt a little weird with one shirt tucked up around his armpits and the other tangled behind his back, but it wasn’t a bad weird. It was more like a looming sense of anticipation that set his heart pounding relentlessly.

Being restrained could have its perks. He eagerly tried to sit up, hoping for a better view.

McCree whined helplessly when Hanzo pushed him back down flat onto the couch, hips jolting when warm fingers settled on his hips. Hanzo tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned down to nose around McCree’s groin, leaving kisses all over his thighs and hips. His teeth were blunted, but his eyes remained luminous, his horns jutting proudly outward. McCree longed to wrap his hands around them just to watch Hanzo squirm and flush. Instead, he clenched his fingers behind his back and tucked one ankle over Hanzo’s shoulder.

“You gonna do something other than tease me, sweetheart?”

Hanzo laughed. “I’ll try.”

Hanzo wrapped one muscled hand around McCree’s hairy thigh and kissed along his leg, sucking little lovebites into his inner thighs. He neglected to make them healthy again, letting them linger, red and shiny, along the taut line of his muscles. Hanzo leaned in to suck at the thin skin of his testicles, pulling one into his mouth while he started to stroke along McCree’s cock. He played with the piercings again, sliding the line of them back and forth with a persistent thumb. They’d healed years ago, but McCree still had to bite his lip at the faint tugging sensation on the delicate skin.

Wrapping his fingers around the head of McCree’s cock, Hanzo hummed and slid lower, lifting McCree’s heavy balls to kiss at the base of his cock where it disappeared into the cleft of his ass. He slowly left a trail of kisses along McCree’s inner thighs that had McCree breathless, hips opened wide and toes curling.

McCree strained to sit up, watching in rapt fascination as Hanzo played with his own chest while he mouthed along the length of McCree’s cock, laving a wide strip up to the crown before digging his tongue in. McCree groaned, hips jerking. He accidentally knocked a knee into Hanzo’s horns and was rewarded with a quick shove down, his hips suddenly held entirely too still for his liking.

“No, c’mon,” McCree whined. “Lemme just--”

Hanzo shushed him before returning to suckle at the head. He dug it into the soft pocket of his cheek, massaging his tongue along the piercings while he pressed firmly into McCree’s perineum with a thumb.

McCree dug the heel of his foot into Hanzo’s back, pulling him forward impatiently.

Hanzo pulled off of him, breaking a strand of saliva with his tongue. McCree’s face, already hot, burned ever brighter at the sight of Hanzo’s swollen lips grinning up at him from between his legs. Hanzo slowly jerked him off while he spoke.

“If you’re not careful I’ll have to tie the rest of you up, too,” Hanzo teased.

McCree gulped and struggled in his makeshift bonds. He was sweating beneath the tangled flannel. “I don’t think I’d even fight you on it, honestly.”

Hanzo suddenly leaned forward, jaw open wide as he slowly swallowed McCree down to the root, long tongue lolling out to let saliva drip down the shaft as Hanzo sucked and slurped.

McCree made a low, broken noise when he felt Hanzo’s throat flutter around him for a moment before pulling off again. He only had a second to recover before Hanzo was back again, just as deep--then again, and again. McCree moaned helplessly when Hanzo held him like that, using his powerful arms to hold him flat against the couch cushions. McCree’s chest heaved as he fought his body not to move.

“Ah, fuck-- I’m gonna-- Han, pull off--” McCree shoved at Hanzo’s head with his knees, startling a whimper out of himself when Hanzo’s teeth clicked against his piercings as he drew off just in time for a fat stripe of come to land itself smack across Hanzo’s beaky nose. He didn’t even have the shame to look surprised, instead leaning back in to suck at McCree’s balls as spurt after spurt of come rushed down his cock, dribbling over Hanzo’s cheeks and chin. McCree’s face scrunched up painfully: Hanzo wasn’t letting him down easy, instead apparently trying to milk him dry. McCree could feel him moaning deeply into his hips, could feel the jostle of his shoulder as Hanzo rutted against the couch, hand dug beneath himself to jerk himself off.

“C’mere, please-- come here.” McCree softly kicked at Hanzo with his foot, trying to get him to let up off his dick. Hanzo swiped his arm over his face before crawling over McCree’s body to kiss him soundly, rutting against the vee of his groin and growling low in his chest. McCree pressed up against him, panting wetly against Hanzo’s shoulder as Hanzo nuzzled into his neck, sucking wet kisses onto his collar bones. McCree groaned and turned his face to nuzzle it against the base of Hanzo’s horns, pressing his nose into the base of them and enjoying the throaty moan it got him.

Hanzo tugged at McCree’s nipple, rolling the point of it between two fingers while he roughly jerked himself off over McCree’s spent dick, rubbing his cock into McCree’s stomach and pubes.

“You’re not--she can’t have you. If she so much as comes _near_ you,” Hanzo growled, “I’ll eat her _alive_.”

“What-- Who--?”

“If that fox thinks she can just come after what’s mine over and over again, she’s wrong. You belong to _me_.”

“Yeah, fuck, I-- I do, I do--”

“I’ll make sure no one--” Hanzo bit his lip and grunted as a spurt of precome dribbled out onto McCree’s skin, and he rubbed it in with the head of his cock, “ _\--no_ _one_ could ever mistake you for _anything_ but _mine_.”

Blood thrummed through McCree’s temples as the Hanzo’s demon magic worked its way into his system. He felt like he was burning up, embers roiling in the very seat of his gut. Everywhere Hanzo touched was hypersensitive. McCree’s chest huffed like a train going uphill; he dug his nails into his hands behind his back, wrapping his legs around Hanzo as he stretched out his neck for another kiss.

Instead of hungry lips, though, McCree got a mouthful of sharp teeth hovering just above his throat. Their sharp points rested just on the edge of his skin, pressing in with such a threat that McCree could feel his pulse push against them rabbit-quick. A snarl rasped its way out of Hanzo’s chest before Hanzo quickly jerked to the side and sunk his teeth into the meat of McCree’s shoulder. His tongue worked against the edges of the wound, and it sealed almost as fast as it was opened. That didn’t stop McCree from groaning heavily, drunk on Hanzo’s intoxicating effects.

McCree writhed under Hanzo, crying out with relief when he felt Hanzo come on him in hot bursts, mixing his spend into the tacky mess cooling on his stomach.

\--

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this, you know.”

McCree and Hanzo lay side-by-side on Hanzo’s bed. They’d tidied up the living room and retired to somewhere more comfortable. McCree realized that this was the first time post-sex that he wasn’t ready to pass out-- and that he rather liked this change of pace. Instead, he felt warm all over, physically exhausted but mentally firm. The bite on his shoulder throbbed a little, but Hanzo’s soft touch around it was more comforting than painful. The demon couldn’t seem to leave it alone.

“Around…?” Hanzo asked sleepily. McCree was playing little spoon, looking at his phone while Hanzo dozed in and out behind him.

“The gumiho. A thousand years on earth, and she just...starts to eat people?”

“Not whole people. Just organs. Mostly livers.”

McCree huffed.

“Because that makes a lot of difference when you’re bleeding out.”

“Hmm.” Hanzo snuffled against McCree’s neck and pulled him closer.

They lay in silence for awhile while McCree read over his notes and correspondences. The wind blew steadily outside the little cabin, but it was muffled by a heavy layer of snow. McCree was thankful for the thick blankets and Hanzo behind him, because the weather had been getting progressively worse as the night went on. He was sure that by morning they’d have trouble getting out.

“Y’know, it’s just occurred to me,” McCree started, “that she’s probably been manipulating demons like this for ages. The young ones, anyway. Is there protocol for that apprentice thing you talked about?”

“Not particularly,” Hanzo mumbled. “It is usually kept within family groups.”

“But it’s not impossible to go outside the family?”

“If you do not have any family left, I suppose.”

“...are demons the only ones that do that?”

Hanzo yawned, digging his arms into McCree’s stomach, stroking his hipbones while he got comfortable.

“Satya studied with Ana for some time before striking out on her own. Though they are not identical in skill sets, Satya relied on Ana for a lot of help at first.”

“Gotcha. Satya’s your lamia friend, ain’t she? What’s Ana if she’s not another one?”

Hanzo took a moment. McCree was almost afraid he’d fallen asleep, but after a moment, Hanzo replied thoughtfully.

“Yes, Satya is a naga. Ana though...Something like a Greek fate? Diluted blood, I suppose. She has one working eye. Well, they both _work_ , but one sees the present and the other sees the future. It’s very distracting, apparently.”

“I’ll have to talk to her sometime. That’s gotta be damn useful.”

“She has her moments.”

As they drifted off to sleep, McCree thought, again, of the idea of a “benign supernatural club.” There were obviously other supernaturals out there that weren’t hostile-- lots of them, if Hanzo’s network was anything to go by. It seemed odd that Overwatch and other guilds wouldn’t have run into them before, or at least mentioned it anywhere.

This couldn’t be a first. McCree hoped, quietly, that maybe it wouldn’t be the last. People would probably shit themselves if he made it clear he was willingly working with (sleeping with) a demon without a threat in place to subdue them.

Regardless, he’d enjoy this time while he could. It couldn’t last forever.

He’d have a hard time leaving Hanzo behind, that was for sure. In the last week or so he’d gotten almost too comfortable in the demon’s home and arms.

As Hanzo began to breathe the soft sighs of sleep behind him, McCree browsed the boards for more work. This job would be finished soon and he’d have to move on. He _always_ had to move on. It was something he’d usually considered a perk-- it let him travel the country and occasionally the world looking at new things. His journals alone were pretty hefty tomes at this point, ripe with stories of close encounters. He wondered now how many of them could have been avoided or made less dangerous with a bit more communication.

So he browsed the forums for jobs and looked at records of the newest encounters and slowly, warmly, settled in for a comfortable night.

\--

They spent the morning gearing up for a fight. Besides the vast woods, there weren’t many places a demon that powerful could hide. They’d cautiously checked the cave again a couple days prior, but it had been stripped bare, empty even of the debris the other, younger demon had left behind. No one in the small town had reported signs of a wild animal anywhere, but that didn’t rule out anything in particular.

The only place of note was, again, the parks. The cave systems were extensive, but there were other places-- bridges and cabins. It being the off-season, the grounds would likely be abandoned. Even the park service apparently didn’t check them regularly because they locked them up every winter.

McCree made a few enquiries to the park staff; it was shame, they said, that he was contacting them in the middle of the snowy season. They were a little more short-staffed than usual. Parks weren’t open, but any rangers would be busy helping clear paths and moving fallen trees, on top of monitoring wildlife patterns.

All that meant to McCree was that there wouldn’t be any interference or possible casualties if something went down in the woods.

Before they left, McCree and Hanzo spent a few hours making weapons and preparing for a slaughter. McCree mixed up his salt and iron, sharpened his blades, and made sure he had plenty of ammo in his gun. And all the while, Hanzo sat at his side, carefully inspecting his bow and each arrow for faults.

When they were ready to leave-- with, still, not much direction to go on-- McCree paused at the door. He tapped Hanzo’s arm silently, grabbing his hand when Hanzo turned to face him. He smiled and tapped his cheek.

“Gonna give me a kiss for good luck?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but leaned in, crowding McCree against the door frame. McCree had a second to laugh before Hanzo was kissing him slow and deep, pulling away with a soft drag of teeth his bottom lip.

“Is that enough luck for you?”

McCree tipped his hat with a blush. “Darlin’, I’ve gotta be the luckiest man in the world right now.” He ducked out the door, hand on Hanzo’s back. “Now what do you say we go get ourselves a good old fashioned fox hunt?”

The problem now was finding the damn thing. The fur would help, but because the gumiho had been all over the town and woods, it couldn’t give the two of them a clear picture of her path.

Snow had fallen heavily overnight, and Hanzo and McCree had to tread carefully as they wandered through the woods. Everything was muffled and gray in the dim winter light. Sound barely traveled, and there were hardly any signs of wildlife. It was deeply unsettling for McCree, who wasn’t bundled up very heavily because he needed access to his pockets full of implements. He shivered as they walked, sparing a glance over to Hanzo, who seemed perfectly comfortable in his light overcoat with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulders.

“Gonna have to get me more of that curry you made the other week, partner. I think those chilis are about the only thing that’re gonna ward off a cold after this.”

Hanzo sniffed. “If you wore a heavier coat and a warmer hat you would not have to worry.”

McCree placed his hand over his heart, mock-offended.

“Hey now, I’ll have you know this hat has a _multitude_ of uses. Sure takes the glare out of the sun.”

“Yes,” Hanzo said sarcastically, “because the bright, hot sun is the most worrying thing at the moment.”

“Yeah, well--” McCree stopped, standing up straight. He’d heard a crackling in the brush some distance away. “Hold on, Han.”

They approached the noise, cautiously drawing their weapons. As they neared the source of the noise, they slowed, seeking cover behind wide trees and snow-covered bushes. The snow muffled their steps, but it provided a stark contrast for their forms. They wouldn’t be able to hide much.

As they approached, a small, wriggling creature disturbed the heavy snowfall. After a split second, a white hare darted out and fled.

“Just a damn rabbit,” McCree said with disgust. “Shit.”

Hanzo pointed ahead of them.

“But look-- the campgrounds.”

Just where the rangers had said they would be, a cluster of cabins could be seen in the distance in the middle of a wide clearing. It was covered in thick snowfall, but even from their far distance McCree could see that something had disturbed the covering-- something red and vaguely wet-looking. There were piles of snow dragged to each side of the haphazard path, as if it had been roughly pushed aside while something was dragged. The path turned a corner, out of sight behind another building.

Quelling the urge to simply rush ahead to find the source of the disturbance, McCree signaled to Hanzo before quietly stalking forward, taking his time to keep himself covered and crouched low.

The closer they got, the more something seemed to be wrong with the scene. Not only was there what appeared to be blood-- there was a lot of it. The silence was eerie, but not undisturbed: crows pecked at bits of flesh and tufts of skin and hair that dotted the path. They cawed irritably when Hanzo and McCree walked past them, staring with their beady black eyes.

The gore got worse as they rounded the corner, and McCree strained his ears listening for any noise up ahead. He peeked around the corner of the wooden building, and seeing no figures, advanced, Hanzo close behind. Hanzo had drawn his bow and now had an arrow nocked.

McCree reached into his pocket and drew forth a packet of salt and iron shavings designed to burst on contact. It wouldn’t do much against something as powerful as a kumiho, but it might stun it. McCree wasn’t 100% sure about it-- he’d never had to tangle with something that old before. He also pulled out his gun-- the same one he’d shot the minor demon with-- and held it in a steady grip, ready to use it.

As they neared the last corner, a heavy stench assaulted them. It smelled like rot and old meat. The blood trail was thicker here; viscous liquid coated the walkway, melting snow and making their path slippery. McCree was careful to stay out of the puddles, but Hanzo stalked through them, heedless of the mess on his boots. He left sticky trails behind him in the snow, which clung to their bodies now, falling off the slatted wooden boards of the cabin they kept their backs to.

McCree grimaced when he rounded the edge of the building: ahead of them lay the gored body of a buck. Its stomach was brutally ripped open, and the jagged edges of its hide revealed organs spilling out onto the front steps of the building. The door was open, and its head and shoulders were halfway into the doorway, its hooves splayed without care on the steps. There was blood absolutely everywhere. Puddles of it pooled beneath the buck, half-congealed and sticky in its fur. And then there was fur-- patches of it looked like they were ripped directly out of the buck’s body, skin and all. The thick tufts that normally would have been over its neck were missing entirely, skin and hair gone to reveal the column of its throat, red and wet.

McCree covered his nose, gagging a little at the stench of it. The blood was nothing, but the bloat was grotesque. 

He waved Hanzo forward, and together they advanced on the doorway.

McCree took one last, deep breath and squeezed the handle of his gun for reassurance. It was now or never.

He burst out from around the corner, fully ready for an assault-- only to be a taken aback by the sight of a figure bundled up snugly in a corner full of blankets. The woman they saw before them was petite, but strong-looking. Bundled as she was, she hardly looked threatening. If it wasn’t for the haphazard tufts of fur and skin around her and the cracking layer of drying blood over her entire face, McCree would have taken her for just a typical squatter, or maybe a hostage.

She slept peacefully, face lax in repose. Her hands were small, but gripping a wet pile of offal. McCree did his best to swallow a gag and pull his weapons out before him.

He could hear the faint creak of Hanzo’s bowstring behind him, and turned just in time to signal that he didn’t want Hanzo to let loose a bolt.

He waved his hands frantically. _Not yet. Not when we have her where we need her._ Instead, McCree carefully, quietly snuck up on her, digging through his satchel all the while.

When he got close, he held a net of fine iron chain in the air, ready to go. Then he lobbed the salt bomb. The effect was immediate.

The fox woman woke, snarling and stretching in place. Dried blood flaked off her skin in rusty dust, falling to the disheveled cabin floor. She thrashed groggily under the effects of the salt, making violent noises as it burned into her skin. There were no tangible words in her growling, just a garble of what sounded like Korean and animalistic noises . The fox snorted and snarled, throaty and deep, as she struggled in the salt and iron coating.

As she struggled, McCree hurled the net. It wrapped around the fox firmly, and she slipped on the edge of a blanket, falling to the floor. She writhed, her face red and splotchy, like she had a chemical burn. The chain seemed to feel far heavier, as if it had more weight to it than its slim frame would imply.

“You done?” McCree said after a moment. “‘Cause I’d like to get to the bit where I tell you to fuck off and send you to the astral plane.”

Hanzo nudged him. “Hell. You want to send her to hell.”

“What?” McCree whispered. “I thought hell was just demons.”

“She’s a demon now. Semantics.” Hanzo gestured to the  trapped figure in the pile of fur and blankets. “Go back to being dramatic.”

McCree cleared his throat.

“Yes. Well. Time to send you back to hell, ma’am.”

The demon hissed at him. She sprouted fur as he watched. Her ears grew and her nose elongated until he was greeted with a sharp snout and clever black eyes. Nine long tails lined up behind her, thrashing wildly under the weight of the chains.

“You think you have the power to dismiss me?” she quested through a mouthful of oversized teeth. The edges of her black fox lips pulled back in a sneer, her snout wrinkling in disgust. Her voice was otherworldly, deep and penetrating. It echoed over the walls of the cabin, reverberating in McCree’s chest. When she roared, long and deep, her tails grew white and long. The tint spread up her body until all but the tip of her nose and her eyes were snow white, almost blinding in the dim cabin.

Hanzo stayed back, near the doorway, and watched. He kept an arrow nocked, but held himself back. Fury was clear in his eyes.

“Now, “ McCree started, taking a step forward, “what’s got you in such a state? Seems to me that you don’t have a single damn reason to be so indignant about all this.”

The gumiho’s eyes flicked straight past McCree and onto Hanzo, where they lingered, black and angry. Hanzo snarled right back, and as McCree watched, his own horns emerged at a startling pace, stabbing through his skin and up past his hairline. McCree gaped; he’d never seen Hanzo quite so angry-- not even when the other small-fry had betrayed them.

“I will not tolerate a blood traitor on my land,” the gumiho spat.

“ _Your_ land? I was here first. I came here years ago.” Hanzo  took a step forward, raising his bow threateningly.

“I have always been here. It’s my forest; my people. I feed from them, and live with them, and provide for them when necessary. I have _never_ been hunted. You offend me by treating me as a common beast!”

“When you prey on those who are tithed to another, you act as a common beast and should be treated as such.”

“Woah now.” McCree stepped between the two of them, raising his hands defensively. “Let’s not get too hasty. I’m sure a deal can be worked out. Hanzo, you don’t need the land-- just the people, right?”

“I suppose,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And you, “ McCree said, gesturing to the fox woman. “You need the land to provide for you, and meat, but not necessarily human meat?”

“Indeed. Though it is quite flavorful.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, honey.”

“Regardless, I do not feel _safe_ with such a traitor on my property. You would slaughter your own kin and send them back to hell for another lifetime? My life is long, but my memory will be longer. I am sure they will love to meet you again.”

Hanzo growled, tensing his fingers on his bow. “I gave my family the treatment they deserved for terrorizing humans they way they did for generations. And I will continue to do so to each one that makes it to this plane. It is no less than _you_ deserve.”

She hissed. “You dare tell me what I _deserve_? A little whelp like you, not even a century into this life, and you want to tell _me_ what to do?”

Hanzo stepped back as the creature rose in her chains. They seemed heavy on her, but not an impossible weight. As McCree watched, steam rose off her skin. A smell like cold ozone permeated the room

“I could break this town.”

“But it’s mine. I have earned it.”

“And how have you _earned_ it, child? How have you cared for it?”

“I love it. I tend to its people. I care for its lands. I swim in its waters and live in its forests and frequent the businesses and homes of its occupants. They know me, and I know them. We belong to each other.”

“They will belong to no one before they belong to you!”

She lashed out. The chains did little to restrain her. As McCree watched, her tails began to shake behind her, puffed up as any ruffled animal would be.

Hanzo let loose a volley of arrows, dodging to the side. None of them seemed to hit well, but a single shot grazed her side, causing a spray of blood and faint magical echo as the gumiho knocked past the two of them. At the last minute, McCree threw a salt spray, and she stumbled out the door on four legs-- but not before raking McCree across the chest with long claws. She slipped momentarily in the slick of the buck’s organs, but almost made it to the treeline, bloody pawprints trailing behind her.

McCree shot at her, but she dodged and weaved until she was at the very edge of the campgrounds. She stood in the snow, surrounded by thick drifts. She was a ragged forest spirit, covered in drying blood and fur.

The gumiho shifted shapes as she ran, finally confirming McCree’s theory that she, too, had been involved in the attacks. She cycled through different people. She ranged from people they’d never seen to those more familiar: the bakery lady, the server at the diner. Marie. Marcus.

“Would you really harm me?

She cycled through the people again. Marie.

“Not a cherished one.”

Marcus.

“Not a friend.”

And now, sickly, McCree.

“Or a lover?”

McCree stared at his own body, hunched over in flight before him. Disgust showed clear on his face. Is that what he looked like? Or was that what he looked like to Hanzo? He glanced over at his friend and raised his gun towards the gumiho. Hanzo looked conflicted. The fake McCree winked and laughed, spitting blood out of the side of his mouth.

“Not so easy, is it?”

McCree shot her in the chest at the same time that Hanzo shot her in the throat. She gagged on the shaft of the arrow, fletching tickling under her chin, and thrashed on the ground, choking all the while. A spray of flesh splattered below her on the ground, blood pooling underneath her bucking body.

As she died, the fox grinned a too-wide smile. She grimaced through the pain, tongue lashing.

“I’ll see you in hell, child. You’ll be there not too long from now. I can promise you that.”

And then she fell to the ground, crushing the red snow beneath her. Her head lolled to the side, and something small fell out.

McCree approached slowly. The decomposition had already started, so he wasn’t worried about whether or not she was faking her demise. But the small object by her mouth concerned him. He walked up to her body, careful to avoid the rotting flesh. He leaned over, looking at the tiny sphere on the ground. It was the size of a very small marble, and shiny white. McCree picked it up with a gloved hand.

“A pearl?”

Hanzo came up next to him, peering over his shoulder.“As they say: a pearl of wisdom.”

“Hm.” McCree frowned, putting it in a small pocket in his bag to inspect later. He’d have to look it up when he had time. For now, they had duties to attend to.

\--

Things were tense while they did their best to tidy the scene. McCree watched grimly as the gumiho’s body steamed and rotted before his eyes. It would be gone soon enough, down to bones and then dust within a couple days, melted into the ground by spring. He’d alert the Overwatch cleanup crew and someone would make sure it was completely destroyed. The pearl, though-- that he’d keep to himself for now.

The deer and its accompanying gore would be harder to explain. It looked close enough like an animal attack that it  could probably be passed off as such, and McCree made a point to report it to the park patrol. Between them and the supernatural undercurrent within the ranks, he knew that questions would be quelled regarding the circumstances of the cabin break-in.

Hanzo left bloodied footprints around the cabin-- something unavoidable, after all the mess-- but McCree made an effort to slosh snow around so it looked a little less noticeable.

While they cleaned and made notes, McCree occasionally looked over the pearl in his hand. It was small and uneven-- barely worth a note, except for its origins. He wasn’t sure of its worth, but  there had to be some use for it, some meaning behind its existence; why else would it have been produced? Things like these tended to have some kind of poetic meaning to them. It was one of the stranger parts of working with the supernatural.

The fact of the matter, now, was that a job was being wrapped up. McCree took lots of photos, wrote down what had happened, and tapped in a final request for payment before shutting his phone off for good.

Just as they were ready to clean up-- chains reclaimed, weapons sheathed-- Hanzo grabbed McCree’s hand. He kept it in a strong grip through the entire slosh through the snow home, stumbles and all. Halfway over a hill a couple miles in, McCree began to laugh. They were bloodied and beaten,  but Hanzo’s hand on his was firm, his affection clear. They had nothing to fear anymore-- not in this town, not between them.

Hanzo kissed him when they stopped in a clearing, the sun beginning to shine through the overcast sky. It was a grateful kiss, soft on McCree’s cold lips. He took a moment to look at McCree’s injuries: the slashes, the blood on his body, the torn jacket. McCree flinched at the light touches. He’d wrenched his shoulder a bit and he was cold, his face pink from the wind. McCree coughed little, rough with phlegm, and acquiesced to Hanzo’s care. A quick tuck of Hanzo’s face to his neck, licking up a spare bit of energy, Had McCree feeling just fine real quick. Warmth surged through his veins, and he leaned up to tangle his hands in Hanzo’s hair.

“Not gonna put these away?” McCree asked, tapping one of Hanzo’s horns.

“There’s no point. We are alone here.” He looked away. “And I am...still in a bit of a rush. Now, I believe you said something the other day about fucking you until you can’t walk for a week?”

McCree laughed and tugged on Hanzo’s hand again, pulling him along. They quickly passed another charm hanging from a tree-- a mark that they were on Hanzo’s property once again.

“You know,” McCree said as they neared Hanzo’s house, “A gumiho is a big deal. I think I could get just about any job after this. Something real fancy, maybe. A nice, cushy desk job. I’m thinking paid vacation time, benefits, the whole nine yards.”

Hanzo spared him a glance as he fumbled for his keys one-handed. “Oh?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe even a retirement fund.” He scratched his chin. “Gonna have to ask someone about how to set one of those up, though.”

McCree kept rambling about his potential new hunter reputation as they ducked into the little cabin, dropping his bag on the floor

Hanzo shut him up with a hand on his neck and another on his waist, pulling him close.

“I do not wish to lose you.Will you stay?”

“I don’t know if I can--”

Hanzo kissed him again. It was full of longing. Every other kiss had been hot, or fast. Even the languorous days on the couch or bed just passing time had been lazy and slow. This kiss was with purpose.

Hanzo pulled him into his bedroom, pushed him down. McCree went willingly. He was tired, and cold, but he could think of someone to warm him up. He dropped his layers, shivering in the warm air of Hanzo’s bedroom.

When Hanzo pulled him down, McCree was hit, suddenly, with the fact that his job was over. He’d have to leave soon. Maybe even that night, unless something-- maybe someone-- had a reason for him to stay. There was already work to be done the next town over, new appointments to take.

But in the moment, the sheets were soft beneath him, and Hanzo warm above.

Hanzo was being oddly clingy. He tucked himself up behind McCree, rolling them on their sides.He was only nipping at him a bit, eating slips of energy here and there, but he kissed repeatedly along McCree’s back and shoulders, rubbing his hands over his stomach and chest and nuzzling his face into McCree’s neck.

“You should stay.”

“Hanzo--” McCree stilled. Hanzo kissed behind his ear, petulantly wrapping his arms around McCree’s middle.

“You _should._ ”

“Just-- can I just have this? For now?” McCree started to panic, sadness reaching into heart and finding a handhold.

Hanzo groaned frustratedly, but moved himself so he was flush against McCree’s back. He ground his hips into McCree’s backside. McCree could feel Hanzo’s cock hot against the cleft of his ass, small ridges bumping up against him nicely. He shuddered as Hanzo bit lightly at the back of his neck and reached up to cup McCree’s chest, massaging at the muscle right over where the fox’s slashes had been not an hour ago. McCree reached behind himself to grab Hanzo’s shoulder, reveling in the stretch and heat of him.

“You’ll be back, though?”

McCree groaned as Hanzo rubbed at his nipples and ran his hand over his throat. The bite mark from earlier was still on his shoulder, and Hanzo fondly ran a finger over it.

McCree sighed. “You couldn’t keep me away, honey.”

Hanzo slid his hands down McCree’s body, finally settling on his thighs, He reached around to cup McCree’s balls, rolling them slowly in his hand while he sucked another mark into McCree’s shoulder.

McCree moaned quietly, throwing an arm over his eyes. He didn’t want to think; he didn’t want to have to leave or even wonder where he was going. He just wanted to be in the moment with Hanzo, but his damn thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. He rolled his hips against Hanzo to try and distract himself. Heat licked along his shoulders where Hanzo’s saliva sunk in, and his cock filled easily, fat against his thigh.

Hanzo took to stroking him gently-- slowly, almost too slowly. McCree grumbled and set about trying to thrust into Hanzo’s hand, but Hanzo kept his grip loose and uneven.

“Can you just-- is this punishment for leaving?”

“If I have to let you go, I’m going to make this last as long as possible.”

Grunting in McCree’s ear, Hanzo slipped his hard cock between McCree’s thighs, taking his time to thrust lazily, pushing the head of his cock into the small space behind McCree’s balls. He spit on his hand and spread the slick between McCree’s cheeks before grinding into it, groaning at the sweet slide of his cock between McCree’s legs.

Hanzo fucked him slowly, keeping his hand on McCree’s cock still while he pushed and pulled with purpose behind him. McCree panted into the crook of his elbow, which was still thrown over his face, and tried to tighten his thighs, maybe entice Hanzo to fuck him harder.

“You won’t find anyone like me anywhere else, Jesse.”

‘I know,” McCree whined. “I know it. I know, goddamn, you’re real special. You’re one of a kind, Hanzo.”

“Then stay. Let me take care of you.”

McCree growled, reaching behind him to grab Hanzo’s face. He twisted in Hanzo’s grip, facing him as best he could.

“You’ve taken care of me plenty, but I can get along on my own, sweetheart.” His expression softened. “It won’t be forever.”

Hanzo murmured something that sounded like a disagreement, but slowly started to quicken his pace between McCree’s legs. He didn’t stop with the gentle kisses, though, peppering McCree’s back with them as he dragged his cock through a slick of precum and spit. He tightened the hand on McCree’s cock to make a small hole to fuck into, and McCree went gladly, lost for the moment to pleasure.

Eventually things had to come to an end, though. After a long time of slow, intense grinding, Hanzo came, splattering come between McCree’s cheeks and finishing him off. He ended up cleaning him up with his tongue, and McCree would have counted himself lucky if he could bathe like that every day.

They lay together on the bed afterwards, panting softly and coming down from the high curled together in Hanzo’s messed up sheets. Finally McCree pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, grimacing while he said the inevitable:

“You know, I really should check my messages--”

“Please,” Hanzo said, “allow me to pretend you’re not leaving for at least another few minutes.” His voice was strained.

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright.” McCree stroked Hanzo’s face. “I’ll be around. Like I said, it won’t be forever.”

Hanzo grunted and held McCree closer, wrapping his arms around him from behind and nuzzling into the red marks he’d made on his neck.

\--

McCree woke in the middle of the night to his phone buzzing on the beside table. When he looked at the message he’d received, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

He was being presented with an unbelievable opportunity.

Packing up his things quietly, McCree left before the sun rose, leaving Hanzo snoring in the bed he’d so graciously shared with McCree for the last several nights.

McCree left a note:

 

_I’ll be back, hell or high water._

 

_Sorry._

 

\--

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

The doorbell rang. Hanzo opened up the door, irritably peering out into the dark. A figure stood outside his door, casual as you please.

“You should really get that porch light fixed, sweetheart. Could’a been anyone out here.”

Hanzo stiffened. “Perhaps I am not so selective about my company these days.”

“Now, I find that very hard to believe.”

McCree stepped into the wan light leaking out of Hanzo’s house. He looked good-- healthy. His clothes looked newer, but his same hat rested on his head, his same gun at his hip, and the same smile on his face. He hardly looked contrite, though. Hanzo frowned further.

Hanzo did not move or gesture for McCree to come in. He was tense, his eyes hard. Not a bit of friendliness in his posture.

“You gonna let me in?”

Hanzo jerkily moved back, barely giving McCree room to move past him. The mud was thick in front of the house, and McCree stamped his boots on the doormat to get most of it off. Remembering the pile of shoes by the door, McCree toed his shoes off and shot a glance at Hanzo before setting down his huge tote. Then he pulled out a smaller satchel and held it close, almost nervously.

“Now, I know you’re probably mighty mad at me,” he started shakily, “but before you start sprouting fangs and jumping at my throat I’d like to say a few things.

“First,” he said, digging into his little bag, “I need to make a proper apology. I’m sorry for leaving, Hanzo. I didn’t mean to be gone so quick, and I didn’t mean to stay away for so long. Some things came up.”

“Too much for even a-- even a call?”

McCree flinched. “Alright, well, the damn board wouldn’t give me your contact info in the name of ‘confidentiality’ or some other bullshit.”

“I requested that they absolutely provide it for you!” Hanzo steamed. “Is this-- are your employers stupid or actively antagonistic? I have done _nothing--_ ”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. They don’t...they don’t like folks like you much. I’m working on it. But look.” He pulled out the pearl again from a tiny bag. It shone dully in his hand, oddly shaped and ovular, in a wire wrap on a thin chain. “I came to give this back to you.”

“Back to--? It was never mine. You made the kill.”

“You assisted. And Overwatch doesn’t want anything to do with the territory. The body’s already disposed of--- rotted down to mud and flowers by the time I went back to the site. And there’s one other thing.” He held out the long chain, motioning for Hanzo to put it on. Hanzo slipped it over his head. “It’s a contract, of sorts, if you want it. Blood lost and shared. A promise.” He looked at Hanzo softly. “I was thinking about this for a long time. Ah--” He held his hand up when Hanzo looked like he wanted to object. “You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted it out there. Hanzo Shimada, you will not be hunted as long as you are under my protection.”

Then he grinned, reaching into his small bag again, before pulling out a heavy leather wallet.

“And this, y’see, is where that protection comes from.” He held up the wallet, revealing a new card: an ID card, official and shiny-new, sat in the leather casing. “Darlin’, you’re looking at the newest tri-county supernatural sheriff.”

Hanzo laughed, wiping at a shocked tear in one eye. “Is that the official title?”

McCree’s smile softened, and he bumped his shoulder against Hanzo’s, his hand coming out to rest on Hanzo’s hip.

“Nah. But ‘consultant’ just doesn’t have the same ring, now does it? Say, sugar, that hunter’s fee was real sweet of you. Got me all paid up for my background checks and then some. You know it takes a solid month just to get a license around here?”

Hanzo shook his head. “I didn’t know. Still--” he frowned, smacking McCree’s shoulder. The nubs of horns were peeking out of his forehead now, irritability clear in his eyes. He clutched the tiny pearl in one hand. “You don’t write, you don’t call. You are a terrible man.” He smiled softly, though, leaning into the hand McCree kept on his waist. “But you are welcome here.”

“That’s mighty fine, honey, because I was thinking...I’m gonna need a place to sleep while I spend that massive hunter’s fee on a nice little lovenest for myself. I was thinking something rural? Maybe a small town. Local demons are a must.”

Hanzo smiled and pulled McCree further into the house, shutting the door behind him.

  
“I think I know a place that fits that description.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through this with me, guys. It's been a wild ride and a learning experience.
> 
> Come bother me on my blog! (see below) Lately I've been getting a ton of asks, and it's been a great time. Headcanons galore!
> 
> I might come back through for some minor edits in a couple days, but for now, I'm done with this fic.


	5. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has basically nothing to do with the main plot and is just some bonus porn for y'all. I had a great commissioner on tumblr that really got me motivated to finish this.

“It’s only for a week, Hanners. It’s not forever.” McCree stood on the porch of their cabin, bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“Yes, but…” Hanzo fidgeted in the doorway. A brisk breeze was blowing in, and he shivered a bit. That alone was enough to worry McCree. Hanzo had been acting strangely the last few days: he felt colder than usual, despite never having issues with the cold previously; and he was irritable more days than not, scratching at his horns now and then and complaining that the air was too dry. “What if it’s not? Last time you said that you were gone for three months.”

 

McCree’s expression melted, and he reached out to caress Hanzo’s face, soothing a stress line out of his forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it. And you can always call me any time, you know that.”

 

“Ugh.” Hanzo rested his head on McCree’s shoulder, gripping him tightly. “Do you really have to do this? You are so busy already.”

 

“It’s a conference, sweetpea. I gotta go and represent the district. And hey,” he said with a smile, pulling Hanzo back. “I might even be able to slip in some propaganda about the good demons.”

 

Hanzo snorted. “It is not propaganda if it is true.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll do my best. You know the guilds have a bit of a bias.”

 

“That is putting it lightly.”

 

McCree shrugged. “I’ll do what I can, honey. It’s gonna be an uphill battle.”

 

“Well,” Hanzo said, gripping the pearl on a long chain at his chest, “If all goes well, we have at least a few more decades together to work on the cause.”

 

McCree leaned in, pecking Hanzo on one overly warm cheek before turning away, waving at Hanzo as he headed for the cab waiting at the end of the lane.. 

 

“Alright, I gotta get going. I’ll see you in a week, sweetheart!”

 

McCree saw Hanzo sigh, watching with trepidation as McCree left to spend a week with other hunters and Overwatch guild members. He’d been planning this for months, but it was still hard to let go for even a short amount of time. As he closed the door on the cab, he saw Hanzo scratching at his scalp where one horn would be, grumbling as he shut the door to their home.

 

Well, it was only a week. What could go wrong?

 

\--

 

The conference went well. McCree was able to meet other leaders in the community and actually network for once; he ran into people he’d only known by usernames on the forums, tried new products, and generally had a ball. He talked with Hanzo on the phone a couple times, but it was brief. McCree was exhausted from days in the halls and in talks, and Hanzo had apparently taken the time to go on longer runs than usual or swim laps for hours at the local indoor pool. At the end of the day, they had barely enough energy to check in with each other before passing out for the night.

 

Concerned with the chills and fever Hanzo had reportedly been running, McCree even looked into demon health and anatomy. There wasn’t much that people knew; if there had been any significant research beyond how to use it  to kill something, he couldn’t find it. Indeed, a few people even laughed at him when he inquired about demonic relationships. Why would you need to know that when you were just trying to end them?

 

Frustrated, McCree took notes nonetheless, thinking that he would love to hold a similar conference with friendly supernatural people and creatures to compare the two crowds. From what he’d seen, there was actually a fairly large community. The problem was convincing the friendlies to reveal themselves without worrying that they’d be slain just for existing openly. 

 

People like Ana might be fine; they could pass as human. But Hanzo? If he lost control on his shape he’d be put down in a hot minute. 

 

Every time they talked, Hanzo sounded tired and irritable. They even squabbled a couple times. Hanzo didn’t like that McCree was around all those hunters, and McCree was insistent that it was a community he’d been in long before he’d met Hanzo. In the end, they settled for missing each other and compromising by trying to think of a plan to meet with Hanzo’s worldwide contacts. 

 

McCree returned at the end of a week as promised. The house was empty when he arrived, the lights off and kettle cold. Peering around, McCree dumped his bag in the bedroom, throwing a pile of dirty laundry onto the bed and fishing out his smokes.

 

He was finishing up a cigarette when Hanzo walked up the path into the woods he had from his yard. He was panting hard, red-faced with sweat soaking his shirt. McCree couldn’t help but appreciate the view.

 

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a smile. “Had a good run?”

 

Hanzo shook his head. “No. I can’t seem to get all this energy out.” He swept up to McCree, running a hand down his arm. McCree jumped under his touch. Even worn-out and dirty, he had missed Hanzo. “And I’m starving.”

 

“Well, it has been awhile.” McCree laughed, stubbing out his cigarette and leaning in to kiss Hanzo. He was stopped with a hand over his mouth. Hanzo made a face of disgust. 

 

“Please, no. You always taste like an ashtray after that. Brush your teeth first.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” McCree grumbled, but headed inside with Hanzo following. He brushed his teeth while Hanzo stripped out of his athletic wear and into a simple pair of sweatpants. McCree watched intently, winking when Hanzo caught him staring. The effect was somewhat diminished by the foam around his mouth.

 

Finally fresh, the two of them ambled into the kitchen. Hanzo set the kettle on the stove while McCree started preparing the two of them some lunch. McCree was content to cook in their little cabin while Hanzo puttered around cleaning up after himself, grumbling about how warm he was and how his horns just  _ wouldn’t stop itching.  _ It was homey and comforting-- exactly what he needed after a week away.

 

He stopped in the middle of chopping when Hanzo stared at the kettle and declared that it might actually be a little warm for a hot drink.

 

“Hey, c’mere.” McCree crooked his finger, and Hanzo stepped up to where he was leaning up against the counter. “You still look a little pink. Feeling okay?” He brushed a hand over Hanzo’s forehead; it was unusually warm.

 

Hanzo shook his head. The nubs of his horns were poking out, his teeth looking a little sharp. He grimaced.

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

McCree slid his hand down from Hanzo’s forehead and over his jawline, stroking the curve of one cheek with his thumb. He watched in fascination as Hanzo’s pupils quickly widened and the demon blinked slowly, as if entranced. He pressed into McCree’s hand ever so slightly, and McCree hummed consideringly.

 

“Wanna try eating something and see how you feel?”

 

Hanzo ran one clawed finger down McCree’s cheek, scratching at his scruff and pulling him closer. He kissed McCree hungrily, biting at his bottom lip and pulling gently. McCree shivered when Hanzo sucked on his tongue; little slivers of golden mist drifted off of his skin and Hanzo followed them with his mouth. It riled McCree up something fierce, and when they parted, he was almost as flushed as Hanzo and breathing hard. 

 

But he managed to untangle himself from Hanzo’s grip, turning back to his cutting board after one final peck on the lips.

 

“Go lie down and I’ll bring you some lunch in a bit, darlin’.”

 

When lunch was done, he carried the food in, a plate in each hand, only to stop dead in the doorway.

 

Hanzo was sitting on their bed, sure; but he was also covered in McCree’s dirty laundry and obviously touching himself, grinding into his hand in little jolts while he buried his face in McCree’s nastiest undershirt.

 

McCree carefully set the plates down on the dresser and walked up, scooting onto the bed. Hanzo hardly seemed to notice him. His horns were slowly pushing their way out the longer he lay curled up in the pile of clothing. His heavily-lidded eyes flickered up when McCree forced him to sit up a bit so McCree could curl behind him. 

 

“Well shit, sweetheart, didn’t know you missed me  _ that  _ much,” McCree said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of Hanzo’s eyes. It left a beautiful view of his cheeks, dusted pink and half-hidden by the fabric Hanzo had pressed to his nose.

 

Hanzo made a needy noise and pushed into his hand-- pushed his  _ horns  _ into his hand, groaning with an immense sound of pleasure when McCree rubbed at and scratched the inflamed skin at the base of them.

 

“I don’t-- I’m not--” Hanzo struggled to form a coherent sentence, instead settling for clutching at the pendant he kept on a long chain: a massive wire-encased pearl, drawn from the mouth of a dead gumiho. The fingers of one hand tangled in the thin chain as the other clutched at a mud-splattered jacket and rubbed it all over himself, closing his eyes as he flared his nostrils. McCree watched in fascination as his jaw widened, teeth growing long and sharp.

 

McCree pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s forehead, then chuckled a bit before saying, “Guess your little snack wasn’t enough, huh?” 

 

Hanzo groaned. “I do not think anything will  _ ever  _ be enough when it comes to you.”

 

A smile split McCree’s face, and he pulled Hanzo up a little higher, forcing him to sit in his lap, McCree’s legs encasing him on either side as Hanzo shuddered.

 

He squirmed a little bit, flinching away from McCree’s rough touches over his arms and sides. 

 

“It’s like-- it’s like the flu,” Hanzo mused distractedly. “My skin hurts, but I need-- I need to be touched. You smell so  _ good,  _ Jesse.”

 

McCree pushed some hair out of the way and kissed at the back of Hanzo’s neck as he ran his hands over Hanzo’s chest, under his hands where the demon was still clutching his pendant. He’d hardly taken it off in the months since McCree had given it to him. At the time, he’d joked that it was a “pearl of wisdom,” but now he was starting to wonder if there was some truth to it.

 

“Then keep sniffin’, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Hanzo groaned and rolled his hips a little bit into the pile of dirty clothes he’d covered himself in. Every movement had him pressing back into McCree’s lap with a struggle, and despite his concern for his partner McCree found himself righteously turned on by the display. He pet through Hanzo’s hair, over his sensitive scalp. Hanzo twitched and made needy noises every time McCree touched the base of his horns, and eventually McCree rubbed in earnest, watching with delight as Hanzo’s face went a deep pink and he gnashed his sharp teeth. 

 

Hanzo flinched away when McCree tried to get under his clothes, but he pressed back immediately as if trying to overcome the oversensitivity. 

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Hanzo hissed, and a tingle ran down McCree’s spine at hearing him swear. “Why is this so  _ difficult? _ ” 

 

A thought occurred to McCree.

 

“Hey, lemme try something,” he said jovially. “Promise it won’t take too much effort on your part, and you can even keep sniffin’ at my dirty underthings if it helps.” 

 

He carefully maneuvered Hanzo around until he was laying on his back, a shirt clutched to his face and other articles of clothing strewn around the bed. McCree slowly ran his palms up Hanzo’s legs, over the soft fabric of his sweats. He could see the line of Hanzo’s hard dick through the thin fabric, unencumbered by even underwear. The bulge of it was enticingly close, but McCree focused on rubbing gently over Hanzo’s legs, up and down in soothing strokes. Hanzo fidgeted under his touch, but relaxed the longer McCree kept it up, until he was breathing deeply. His chest rose and fell in staggered breaths. McCree didn’t miss the twitch of his dick every time he got up to his upper thighs.

 

Hanzo sighed in pleasure when McCree scratched at him a little, digging his fingers into the muscle.

 

“You run too much,” McCree murmured. “Take a break every now and then, sweetpea, I promise it’s good for ya.”

 

“And lose my stamina? No.” Hanzo spread his legs just a couple centimeters wider, toes curling when McCree leaned forward to move up to his hips, digging into his pelvis with calloused thumbs. 

 

McCree laughed and leaned down to kiss Hanzo’s bare stomach. He nipped at one defined abdominal as he massaged Hanzo’s sides.

 

“I doubt anything could could take away your  _ stamina,  _ Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo only moaned and twitched under McCree’s hands, squirming with the warmth in his gut that nothing seemed to quell. 

 

McCree worked Hanzo gently, careful to keep away from anywhere too sensitive. He carefully worked Hanzo’s pants off, sliding the soft fabric down inch by inch until Hanzo growled and kicked them flying off into a corner of the room.

 

McCree just laughed and continued rubbing at Hanzo’s hips. He skirted around Hanzo’s dick, caressing at his taint and the vee of his hips, but no closer. Hanzo only groaned and rolled his hips desperately. He couldn’t do much else. He was entranced by the scent wafting off McCree’s old clothing and the fresh roll of hormones coming off the hunter now. 

 

“Alright, sweetpea, here we go.” McCree kissed Hanzo’s thigh again and slapped a hand around on their side table to find lube. The bottle was nearly empty, and McCree raised an eyebrow. “Get busy while I was gone?”

 

Hanzo couldn’t have gone any redder even if he  _ had  _ been embarrassed. 

 

“It was a long week,” Hanzo mumbled, then scoffed. “As if you would not have done the same.”

 

“True,” McCree laughed, smacking another kiss just above Hanzo’s dick. “Missed you somethin’ fierce, babydoll. I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of this.”

 

Hanzo just shifted on the bed, scooting closer and practically shoving McCree’s face in his crotch. His horns were out and long, now, his eyes wide and gold. For all the lack of control he was exhibiting, he looked like he hadn’t had a meal in days. 

 

“Then do it,” Hanzo said breathlessly. 

 

McCree massage at  one of Hanzo’s muscled thighs with one hand and slicked up a couple fingers on the other. He started out just running a line of lube down Hanzo’s crack, pushing slickly up under his balls. Hanzo’s dick wasn’t even fully hard against his hip, just a fat, lazy line that occasionally twitched needily. McCree’s breath ghosted over it as he played with Hanzo’s cheeks. 

 

“You do this yourself while I was gone?” He murmured into Hanzo’s hip. Hanzo didn’t answer, panting softly with a dirty shirt thrown over his face. McCree rubbed two wet fingers along the curve of Hanzo’s taint, following them back to his twitching hole. It puckered sweetly, glistening with lube in the dim light of their bedroom. McCree watched it clench tightly when he absently bit at a firm thigh. 

 

He paused with the tip of his middle finger just meeting the opening, then spared a glance upwards. Hanzo’s stomach muscles jumped as he shifted restlessly, toes curling open and closed. McCree smirked. 

 

Ever so slowly, McCree pushed one blunt finger in, savoring how hot and soft Hanzo’s insides were. He pressed the pad of his finger up and over as he shallowly thrust, being as gentle as he’d been when massaging Hanzo earlier. Hanzo was almost scarily silent, but McCree took it as a good sign. 

 

Hanzo had finally stopped moving, hips held still and back stiffly arched McCree pushed, rubbed, and then pulled his finger out for a few long minutes. The only sound in the room were Hanzo’s muffled snufflings into the shirt on his face and a few embarrassingly wet noises coming from McCree’s fingers. 

 

“Doing okay?” McCree asked, pausing with just the tip of his finger left inside. Hanzo’s dick had gone somewhat soft, but was still wet at the tip, pink and desperate. When Hanzo didn’t answer, he just about pulled out entirely, but Hanzo’s hand shot down and held him in place.

 

“Don’t,” Hanzo said shakily. “Keep-- keep going.”

 

McCree proceeded with caution, wiggling another finger in alongside the first. He marveled at the stretch of Hanzo’s rim around him, wet and puffy as he pushed it to its limits. It’d been more than a while since he’d played with Hanzo like this. Hanzo’s meals typically had McCree a little more desperate to be, uh,  _ taken  _ than anything else, but given half a chance, McCree loved to spoil Hanzo a bit.

 

He did so now, fluttering his fingers in a come-hither motion and massaging upwards. He knew he’d hit right on target when Hanzo let out a strangled noise and jerked under his hands. His cock twitched wetly, dripping obscenely and getting his stomach tacky with precum. 

 

McCree grinned. “That’s it, honey. Let it all out.”

 

Hanzo groaned and petulantly stomped one heel on the bed, and McCree rewarded him with a wet kiss to his balls and a steady rubbing up against his prostate. He slowly sucked one heavy testicle into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue as he curled his fingers inside Hanzo’s hole. Another spurt of crystalline precum dripped out of the head of Hanzo’s cock.

 

McCree pulled off of ff with a slurp before pressing kisses along the base of Hanzo’s cock. He nuzzled into Hanzo’s pubes, inhaling deeply while he curled and twisted his fingers.

 

“Y’know,” he mused, “Y’don’t smell so bad yourself.” He grinned. “Runner’s funk aside and all.”

 

Hanzo just growled and rolled his hips. His cock lay flushed and wet on his hip. 

 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hanzo complained half-heartedly. “I do not know what’s happening, but I just-- I need to  _ cover  _ you.” 

 

“Yeah?” McCree smiled sweetly. “Or be covered? ‘Cause you sure got a lot of me on you right now, sweetheart.”

 

Hanzo snarled and threw the damp shirt away from his face. He abruptly pushed himself up on his elbows for leverage, rolling his hips forward onto McCree’s hand with vigor. McCree watched greedily as Hanzo’s cock began to fatten up again, ridges becoming more pronounced as his demon biology filled out. The thick end of it was a startling red and shining with precum as string after string of it leaked out of the tip. 

 

Hanzo stared dazedly at McCree, frowning just slightly. McCree grinned and held himself still, watching his fingers disappear into Hanzo’s ass over and over again. 

 

The frown deepened, Hanzo snarling before yanking at McCree’s hair and rubbing the hunter’s face into his crotch. McCree gasped into Hanzo’s hip, pulling in the sour scent of body odor and spicy musk. Hanzo’s cock was fat against his cheek, smearing presum into his beard and over the bump of his nose. McCree pressed into it and shoved his fingers in harder.

 

“I wanted to  _ treat  _ you, sweetpea,” he said mildly, pistoning his forearm. “Guess you ain’t in a mood to be treated, huh?”

 

“If I am dying,” Hanzo said, panting heavily, “it had better be with your hand in my ass.”

 

“Oh, it will be,” McCree said. He wiggled a third finger into Hanzo’s wet hole, laughing viciously when Hanzo’s pace stuttered slightly before resuming. The bed creaked beneath them, a few of the remaining articles of clothing slipping off the edge of the bed and to the floor. 

 

And all the while Hanzo kept McCree’s face pressed against his groin, his soft cheeks rubbing up against Hanzo’s leaking cockhead in a messy press of skin. Precum seeped into McCree’s hairline, mixing with sweat and smearing obscenely into his bushy eyebrows. 

 

“Check in with me, sweetheart,” Jesse huffed into Hanzo’s hip. “How you doin’?”

 

Hanzo growled low in his throat, his claws scratching just this side of sharp against McCree’s skull. 

 

“I would be  _ better  _ if you were silent.”

 

McCree laughed, then grunted as Hanzo’s balls slapped him in the chin. 

 

“I hardly believe  _ that _ , honey,” McCree said, sucking a sloppy kiss against Hanzo’s cock before pulling away. Hanzo’s hands pulled at his hair, but McCree persisted, scooting up the bed until he was level with Hanzo’s eyes. His tongue darted out to lick a bit of slick off his lips as he leaned forward. Hanzo closed his eyes as if anticipating a kiss, but jerked when, instead, McCree nosed against the base of one horn. He breathed heavily over it, teeth grazing the flushed, sensitive skin that covered it.

 

McCree rocked his wrist progressively harder, fucking into Hanzo until his arm muscles began to burn. He used his free hand to stroke along Hanzo’s jawline, thumb grazing his lip. Hanzo gnawed on the calloused skin of his thumb and growled as he ground down against McCree’s hand. His cock bounced obscenely, dripping with every movement. 

 

In one harsh movement, McCree clamped down on Hanzo’s horn and wiggled the fingers in Hanzo’s ass in a wave, thumb pressed at Hanzo’s taint just beneath his twitching balls. McCree watched in fascination as they drew up, twitching and pulsing as Hanzo spilled more cum than he’d ever seen the demon leak before. Wet ropes of it splashed down his stomach, pooling in the vee of his hips and trailing, sticky and white, in his pubic hair. Hanzo gnashed his teeth and groaned long and loud, hips stuttering as he shuddered through his climax.

 

McCree slowly withdrew from Hanzo and then ran his lube-wet fingers through the mess, massaging the cum into his heaving chest. He kissed Hanzo’s temple and held him close, sucking at the small space behind Hanzo’s ear while Hanzo came down. 

 

“Feel better?” he laughed.

 

Hanzo laughed breathily in response and drew McCree close to kiss him slowly, nipping at his lips. His teeth were less sharp now, though his face was still a fetching pink. 

 

McCree sat back and looked with satisfaction at Hanzo, debauched in a pile of his clothing. In their bed-- a bed he had, admittedly, missed an awful lot while he was gone. 

 

He weighed his options for a split second before grabbing one of his dirty undershirts from the pile and using it to wipe the drying cum off Hanzo as best he could. It was filthy anyway, so what was the harm? Hanzo sighed contentedly and looked up at McCree with heavily lidded eyes.

 

“I can smell you, you know,” Hanzo murmured sleepily. “Even when I wasn’t...even before today.”

 

“Yeah?” McCree asked, eyes twinkling in amusement.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo continued. “But lately…” he stopped, considering his words. “Lately you smell different. Better.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” McCree said with a laugh. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“I think I need to do some research first. This hasn’t happened before and I’m...worried.”

 

“Understandable.” McCree shoved some dirty laundry on the floor to make room and flopped down next to Hanzo on the bed, curling one arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. “I doubt I’ll be much help, but I’ll see what I can do, too.”

 

\--

 

“Well,” the man on the screen said, “I can’t say I’m not  _ pleased  _ for you, brother.” The figure in question looked distinctly demonic in nature, though at this point McCree’s asssociations made him find it endearing. Horns and teeth out flashed brightly against black hair and bright eyes, clawed fingers covering a sharp mouth in amusement.

 

“Don’t torment him, Genji,” another figure chided. This one was decidedly more human, with warm brown skin and a shaved head. Though he was dressed in casual clothing, McCree had been assured that the man was a monk through and through.

 

At McCree’s side, Hanzo blushed, covering his face in frustration. He was no longer feeling worked up-- that had subsided after an intense round of cuddling and some more languorous kissing-- but he’d stayed unable to transform back to his more human-looking form.

 

Genji tittered, throwing his head back to laugh loudly. “I am sorry, I am. But  _ you--  _ Hanzo, this is hilarious.”

 

“ _ Genji _ ,” Hanzo said sharply. “Do you know anything or not?”

 

Zenyatta rolled his eyes and nudged a laughing Genji out of the way of the camera. 

 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Hanzo,” the monk assured them. “Genji went through the same thing.”

 

McCree choked. He did  _ not  _ want to think about Hanzo’s brother in that regard. Hanzo evidently didn’t either, because he flinched before Zenyatta continued.

 

“As far as we can tell without attempting to contact your family for confirmation, it has to do with trust and…” he cast a look to his side, at a still-grinning Genji. “...well, love. How long have you been living together?”

 

“Coming up on about a year, now,” McCree said. “But I was gone this week and when I came back he was, uh.” He blushed. “Like  _ this _ .”

 

Zenyatta laughed gently, then turned to pat Genji’s face with affection.

 

“I went on a speaking tour with some other monks for a month a few years into our relationship and Genji suffered greatly.”

 

“Zen,” Genji hissed. “Don’t--”

 

“They found him rambling to the yaks about how beautiful my eyes were,” Zenyatta continued. “And when I cut my trip short and came home, he wouldn’t let me go for  _ days.” _

 

“Hoo boy,” McCree said, looking away from the screen. He flicked a glance at Hanzo, who looked similarly uncomfortable.

 

“Our running theory was that he’d started to consider me a source of comfort and-- hm, how to put it?-- he was possessive.” 

 

McCree looked over at Hanzo in surprise. The demon was fingering the pearl around his neck thoughtfully.

 

“Jesse.” He held up the lumpy pearl on its chain. “What were your intentions with this?”

 

“I meant it as a promise, remember?” McCree raised an eyebrow. “I thought I made that real clear.”

 

“Then…” Hanzo looked like he was struggling with his words. “Then I supposed I, er-- I accepted the…”

 

McCree flushed red as he realized what the next words would be. He looked at Hanzo’s golden eyes with deep affection.

 

“...the proposal,” Hanzo finished, the words falling from his lips with finality.

 

They both startled when they heard a loud noise coming from the screen. When McCree looked over, Zenyatta was clapping, Genji whistling loudly.

 

McCree broke out into a wide smile and reached for Hanzo’s hand. 

 

“If you’re gonna say it like that, I ain’t gonna discourage you.”

 

"I should hope not," Hanzo said with a shy smile. "At this point I don't think you could discourage me if you tried."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just feel blessed, truly, by the wonderful comments I've gotten on this story since it was first posted. Thank you all so much.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow my NSFW blog at hhgggx.tumblr.com. Sometimes I post snippets about what I'm working on. I also link to my fics on AO3 when I post, in case you can't or don't want to subscribe here.


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